


To Live Again

by niteryde



Series: Bulma/Vegeta Canon Trilogy [3]
Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Awesome Bulma Briefs, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff, Happily Ever After, Parenthood, Post-Majin Buu Saga, Pregnant Bulma Briefs, Romance, Slice of Life, Vegeta being Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Vegeta is Bad at Feelings (Dragon Ball), in which Vegeta experiences all the joys and pains of being a father and a husband
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 124,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niteryde/pseuds/niteryde
Summary: After Buu's defeat, Vegeta finds that his third shot at life just might be his best yet.
Relationships: Bra Briefs & Vegeta, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Trunks Briefs & Vegeta
Series: Bulma/Vegeta Canon Trilogy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/228689
Comments: 115
Kudos: 236





	1. Moving On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is the third and final installment to my Bulma/Vegeta series, and it follows after "You'll Be the Death of Me" (3 year fic) and "Change of Heart" (post Cell fic). Though I might make some references to those fics, it's not necessary to have read them beforehand. 
> 
> Also, I started this fic before Dragon Ball Super, so it won't follow their storylines.

He'd sacrificed his life to destroy Buu. He'd swallowed his pride for once in his life, and fused with his archrival, not caring that the fusion was meant to be permanent. He'd then worked with that same archrival, risking everything he had left to buy Goku the precious time he needed to prepare the Spirit Bomb to finish off Buu. Hell – it was _his_ idea to use the damn Spirit Bomb in the first place.

Yes, suffice to say that without the Saiyan prince, Earth would have been doomed. He was a hero. A bonafide _good guy,_ officially declared so by Shenron. He should have been proud of himself.

But he wasn't. Truthfully, he was just tired.

Vegeta was sitting down on the sofa, his head reclining in his hand, his elbow resting on the arm rest. His other arm was on the back of the sofa, allowing Trunks to subtly lean into his side as they both watched TV in silence. His son hadn't left his side since they got back home, and Vegeta had yet to breathe a word of complaint about it. Being near each other was enough for both of them after their ordeal.

For now, anyways. Vegeta knew that Trunks had things to say about what happened, and that sooner or later, they would talk about it. He wasn't exactly looking forward to it.

"Hey, Vegeta?" Bulma called to him.

The prince glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. It was the first time she had addressed him since telling him hours ago in her hoverjet about the small get-together she was throwing that night. He was opposed to it, of course. All he wanted to do was sleep. But both Bulma and Trunks seemed to want it, and so he kept his objections to himself for once.

"What?"

"I need your help taking some of this stuff outside. Can you come over here, please?"

They both knew that she was lying. After all, Bulma had her bots to do anything and everything regarding heavy lifting, and when she _did_ require Saiyan help, it was usually her son that she ordered to help her. What she really wanted was to talk to Vegeta in private before her friends started arriving. She had left him and Trunks alone as long as she could, but now she wanted to talk.

Vegeta hesitated a second. Finally, he nudged Trunks, making the boy sit up straight. The prince then got up and walked over to her. Bulma turned around and headed into the kitchen, with Vegeta following close behind her. His wife stopped and gestured at the three large plastic bags of ice in their large freezer.

"Just these three?" Vegeta asked, pulling one twenty pound bag out and slinging it over his shoulder. He felt her watching him, but he was just focused on the ice.

"For now. Don't want the sodas to get warm," Bulma distantly said, clearly not caring about sodas at that moment.

"Hn," he grunted, balancing the second bag easily with the first, and then lifting the third in his hand. He turned around without looking at her and walked out into their backyard, with Bulma following him. Ice, sodas, get-togethers. It was like everything was back to normal. At least, until she finally got right down to it.

"So, are we going to talk about it?" Bulma asked once she was sure Trunks couldn't easily overhear them. Vegeta frowned, dropping the bags of ice into different plastic tubs filled with drinks for the get-together.

"Nothing to talk about," he grumbled, squatting down in front of one of the tubs.

Her eyes narrowed. "You _died_ , Vegeta-"

"I'm here now," Vegeta cut her off, ripping open the bag of ice harder than he needed to.

"I know that you're here now," she said, her voice softening. Bulma couldn't resist the urge to touch his back when he stood up. Vegeta turned to face her, and she hugged him as soon as he did. She had restrained from embracing him when the others had been there, but no one was watching them now, and she so badly needed to feel him. Vegeta settled his hands on her hips, holding her against him.

"You died too," he commented quietly.

"Yeah, but…" her voice trailed off. She knew that their experiences hadn't been the same. Bulma drew away and looked him carefully in the eye. "Are you sure you're okay? You know, with the whole Majin thing, having that creep Babidi in your head…" He broke their eye contact as she rubbed his shoulders. "I can't even imagine, what that must've been like-"

"Bulma, I let it happen," Vegeta bluntly interrupted. Bulma stopped rubbing his shoulders, visibly confused. He continued before she could get a word in, "I could have stopped him, if I truly wanted to, but I didn't. I knew what he could offer me, and so I let him take control and turn me Majin. Not that it matters now, but I thought you should know," he finished with a careless shrug.

"Wait…what?" Bulma finally asked, her blue eyes sharpening as she recalled the look on her husband's face at the tournament while he goaded Goku into a fight, and the horrible feeling that she had lost him. "You mean that you killed those people at the tournament and you could have stopped it?"

"I just wanted to fight Kakarot. Those humans weren't my concern."

"Do you know how close you came to killing me-"

"You weren't my concern either." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and the hurt that flashed over her face was immediate. Vegeta looked away, ran a hand up through his hair, and sighed. "Woman, it doesn't matter-"

"Bull- _shit_ , it doesn't matter! What the hell did he offer you that was SO good, huh?" Bulma hissed, her hurt quickly giving way to the anger rising inside her. "Well? What was it?"

"Nothing you could understand-"

"Try me," she challenged.

"Fine," Vegeta snarled as his patience snapped. "He gave me power that I couldn't achieve on my own, and he took away my attachments to you and Trunks. It was what I wanted, to feel like I did before I ever met you, and Babidi gave me that. I was finally able to match up with Kakarot – or so I thought. I did what I had to do. Don't fucking look at me like that, woman," he growled in warning. "You asked the question, I gave you the answer. Not my fault if you can't handle it."

Bulma turned away from him, and restlessly paced a bit, trying to bring herself under control lest she rip him a new one. She lasted all of five seconds before she whirled back around to face him, looking at him in a mixture of hurt, disbelief, and growing rage. "Six years. We've been married six goddamned years, Vegeta, and how long did it take you to let Babidi throw that away? A minute? Two min-"

"It doesn't MATTER!" Vegeta yelled in frustration. "You're alive, Trunks is alive, I'm alive, your precious planet is intact, everything turned out picture perfect, so what the fuck does it matter what happened with Babidi!"

"It matters to ME, Vegeta!" Bulma fearlessly yelled back at him. "I need to know that if tomorrow, you get the choice for power, immortality, or whatever the fuck comes your way, that you won't turn your back on us in a second to take it! I need to know-"

"You don't need to know ANYTHING!" he practically screamed in her face. "I've given up _everything_ for you and that boy, ever since Cell was defeated. Everything I've done has been for either you or him! I had the chance to regain honor in battle against Kakarot, and I did it because that's what I needed at the time. It wasn't about YOU, it was about ME-"

"Yes, of course it was about _you_ ," Bulma bitterly sneered. "How stupid of me to think that all these years we've spent together, that they're worth more than one last, glorious shot at Goku in a fight-"

He growled low in his throat, "That is not what I meant-"

"Umm…'scuse me..." Trunks awkwardly cut in, getting his parents' attention as he stood at the back door. The boy had seen his hot-tempered parents arguing and bantering with each other millions of times, but this was different. Their tones were meaner, nastier than he'd ever heard them before. He didn't like it one bit. Visibly uncomfortable as he stared down at his feet, Trunks muttered, "Krillin's here with Android 18 and Marron. Just thought you guys should know."

He turned around and quickly headed back inside. Bulma and Vegeta made eye contact, both of them studying each other. Finally, she sighed deeply.

"Okay. You did what you did. You had your reasons. Fine. But what I want – what I _need_ from you, is a promise that you won't let it happen again. I mean, goddamnit, Vegeta, do you even regret tossing us aside like that?" All she got back was a neutral, emotionless stare. "Do you even care?" she asked him in exasperation.

Suddenly, Vegeta decided that he was too tired and irritated to deal with this right now. He turned around, walking away and leaving Bulma alone in the backyard with angry, unshed tears. Best he walk away before he say something that he would truly regret- especially regarding her questions. Of course he regretted his decision. Of course he cared about her and Trunks. The fact that she even had to ask offended him. She had always read him with such pinpoint accuracy, understood how he felt without him needing to articulate it, sparing him the awkwardness of trying. He didn't understand why she couldn't do that now.

Bulma took a moment to get it together, but she couldn't deny her hurt over his silence. She tried to tell herself that her husband was right. It didn't matter anymore, because everything had come out "picture perfect". He had more than made up for his decision. Earth was intact, and though all of her friends would look towards Goku first as the reason why, she would always look towards Vegeta first. But was it so much to ask him for reassurance that it wouldn't happen again? Was he unwilling to give that reassurance out of pride, or because he would be lying if he did? She only had his retreating back as her answer.

A minute later, Bulma finally went back inside. More of her friends had arrived, and they were all being amused by Trunks, Marron, and Goten all playing the Wii on the large screen TV in the living room. Trunks caught her eye when she came in, and his eyebrows drew together as he scowled while he scrutinized her. She greeted Goku, Krillin, Android 18, and Yamcha, with warmth and kindness, even though she was distracted. The only one who truly noticed was Trunks, glancing her with a perception that was beyond his years, even while he played his game. When she looked back at him and motioned for him to step into the next room with her, Trunks instantly tossed his controller over to a startled Krillin, and then obediently went over to his mother.

"Hey kiddo, haven't had a chance to talk to you. You doing okay?" Bulma asked him when they were alone.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Trunks responded with a shrug, before raising an eyebrow. "Are you?"

"Of course. Your father and I-" Bulma started, before hesitating to choose her words. She finally settled on, "We're just having a little disagreement. It's nothing."

"It didn't sound like it was nothing," he muttered, unconvinced.

"It is," she insisted. "I'm sorry you had to hear some of that."

Trunks frowned. His mother had never apologized to him before for any argument she had with his father. Instead of being reassured, he was starting to realize that things weren't quite right between his parents. He shrugged carelessly, looking indifferent, making Bulma sigh as he reminded her of Vegeta. She couldn't resist, and pulled him into a hug.

"Ugh, _Mom_ ," Trunks groaned, looking around and making sure no one else could see. But when he was certain that he was in the clear, he gently returned her embrace.

"Go play your game, hon. The food should be here soon. Then we can all eat. I know you must be hungry."

"Yeah," Trunks agreed, before pulling away and looking up at her. "Dad's gonna eat too, right?"

"Of course he is," Bulma reassured him with a strained smile. "And if he doesn't want to eat with everyone else, maybe you can join him upstairs, and you guys can eat together."

Trunks brightened at that, and gave an eager nod. "Yeah, that'd be cool."

Thirty minutes later, Trunks was heading upstairs to do just that, easily juggling two enormous brown paper bags on each of his shoulders filled with the city's best Chinese food. He followed his father's ki signature, though it was unusually low for Vegeta. Frowning in concern, the boy picked up his pace a little bit, and then his concern worsened when he sensed that Vegeta was in _his_ room. The only times his father went into his room was when Trunks was in big trouble. The boy gulped a bit, hoping that wasn't the case now.

Trunks nudged the door to his room open to find Vegeta sitting down at the edge of his bed, looking deep in thought. The prince had his head down, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, but he immediately looked up when Trunks entered.

"Hey Dad. I brought us food. Just for me and you."

"Hn."

"What are you doing in here?"

"Nothing," Vegeta grumbled, keeping to himself the fact that he knew Bulma would never look for him there. Then again, she didn't seem to be looking for him at the moment, so it didn't seem to matter. "What kind of food?"

"Chinese. Mom snuck us all the egg rolls."

"Get that shit off your desk and bring it over here so we can eat."

Trunks did as he was told, and several minutes later, father and son were sitting next to each other again on the boy's bed, using Trunks' desk in front of them as a makeshift dinner table. Trunks was inhaling his food; his mother had been right, he was starving. But Vegeta was eating at such a normal, human pace, that Trunks couldn't help but speak out in concern.

"Dad, are you sick or something?"

"No," Vegeta answered, frowning a bit. "Why?"

"You're barely eating, and I dunno." Trunks shrugged. "Your ki feels kinda weird to me."

"Hn. Probably just from being wished back to life," Vegeta grumbled, even though he knew that his emotions were starting to affect his ki. He hadn't even noticed, but now that Trunks had mentioned it, he forced himself to steady his ki back to its normal levels.

Trunks suddenly began eating slower at the reminder of his father dying, scowling as he poked at some of his food with his chopsticks. It brought back a mix of emotions that he couldn't pin down, but he knew that one of them was anger. Try as he could to ignore it, he found that he couldn't stop it from bubbling up now.

"You shouldn't have knocked me out, you know," Trunks blurted out, immediately getting Vegeta's full attention. But the boy was bitterly glaring down at his plate. It was always easier to address his father when there was no eye contact. "You should have let me fight. I'm strong enough to fight, and if you had let me and Goten help, you probably wouldn't have…you know. Died or whatever."

Vegeta inwardly sighed, putting his chopsticks down. He had suddenly lost his appetite.

"Trunks…"

"I'm not a little kid," Trunks insisted. "I can fight too, just like everyone else. Goten and I can fuse, and we can even go Super Saiyan 3!"

"But you couldn't do that at the time," Vegeta calmly pointed out.

Trunks growled a little bit, before spitting out, "So! So what? You still should've- you didn't- you didn't have to lie to me-" his voice broke, and so he promptly closed his mouth as his face flushed red in embarrassment.

"Lie to you?" Vegeta blinked a bit in astonishment. He tried replaying everything he'd said lately to his son, but was drawing a blank on anything that was a lie that would upset the boy. "What the hell are you talking about? When did I-"

"When you told me that you were proud of me. You just said that to get me off guard, didn't you?" Trunks accused, rendering his father completely speechless. "So I wouldn't see the hit coming. You lied to me, and then you…then you died -"

"Wait a minute," Vegeta interrupted, shaking his head. "You think what I told you was a lie?"

"Well, _yeah!_ You've never said anything like that to me before! You're the one that always told me that you say anything and do anything to win a fight, and—well, I could've blocked your hit if I had been paying attention!" Trunks yelled, unable to bottle his emotion up. When he was met with complete silence, he snorted, and pushed the desk back as he got back up to his feet. "Whatever! I'm just going back downstairs-"

Vegeta's hand shot out and grabbed Trunks by the arm, and Trunks had barely registered the movement before he was whirled back around and roughly pulled over so he was standing in front of his father. The boy swallowed a bit, suddenly reconsidering whether or not he could have avoided a knockout blow from Vegeta on the battlefield, even if he had been prepared for it.

Vegeta glared at his son for a moment, and then relaxed his grip on his arm. Finally, he let go altogether, and sighed. He knew how Trunks felt. Had he been put into a similar situation at eight years old, he would've felt exactly the same way.

"Listen, boy. I know that you're an excellent fighter, but I don't regret taking you and Goten out of that fight. It wasn't your fight, and I couldn't risk it. I know that you don't understand, and I don't expect you to understand until you have children of your own one day. But what I did was for the best. It's my job to protect you, and one day, perhaps you'll see that."

Trunks shifted uncomfortably, lowering his eyes. "Fine, I guess," he conceded quietly, before scowling. "But still! You didn't have to-"

"I didn't lie to you. Look at me, son," Vegeta ordered, waiting until Trunks did. The boy was wearing the same look in his eyes that Bulma had earlier, and it brought a wave of guilt over him. It hadn't been easy seeing Bulma look at him that way, but seeing it from Trunks was unbearable. "I didn't tell you that because I was trying to distract you from the blow that was coming. I told you that because I didn't want to die before I could tell you the truth."

Trunks considered his words for a moment, and hesitantly asked, "You meant it then?"

"Of course I did. I'm very proud of you."

Trunks looked back down, trying to remain indifferent, but he couldn't help the small smile tugging on his lips. "Thanks, Dad."

"You have to trust people, Trunks, when they tell you things like that. I don't…" Vegeta paused, searching for the right words, before settling on, "I don't want you to be like me. Not trusting anyone wears on you, kid. Believe me," he distantly added. Trunks frowned, not quite understanding what his father meant by that, but Vegeta nodded towards the desk of food behind him. "Now I don't know about you, but I don't care for cold food."

"Oh, right." Trunks turned back to the food behind him.

He quickly sat down next to Vegeta again, pulling the table back to them. They both went back to their meal, eating quietly even as the sound of laughter from downstairs reached them, but Vegeta's mind was elsewhere. Between his son and his wife, he certainly had his hands full. Not that he was surprised. The woman had a temper that could match his own, and they had both passed their fire down to their son. Still, he wished they had let him get some sleep before engaging him in these exhausting conversations.

Trunks looked up when Bulma opened the door. She looked them both over, and addressed her son directly.

"Hey Trunks, just wanted to tell you that everyone's starting a Wii tournament downstairs, if you want to come down and play when you're done."

"Oh yeah! Definitely," Trunks eagerly agreed with a grin. Bulma shifted her gaze to her husband, but he kept his eyes on his food. He had yet to even acknowledge her presence. She pursed her lips angrily, and then walked back out, closing the door behind her and barely resisting the urge to slam it. Trunks looked at the door for a bit, and then looked over at Vegeta. "She's mad at you, huh?" he knowingly asked. His father shrugged with indifference, but Trunks was undeterred. "Is it about what you guys were arguing about?"

"The discussions I have with your mother are none of your business."

"I know, but, well…you should tell her you're sorry, otherwise she'll kick you out of your room again."

Vegeta glared at him. "Your mother's never _kicked me out_. I sometimes choose to sleep elsewhere."

"Oh, okay," Trunks easily agreed, keeping to himself the fact that he heard Bulma loudly telling Vegeta to get out of their room every few months or so. It was clockwork; they would fight, she would kick him out, and by the next night, the prince was back in their bedroom, and the couple would do their "private training" together that always made his father's ki fluctuate so rhythmically (though Trunks didn't understand why he was never invited to those training sessions).

"Well, you should talk to her anyways," Trunks continued. "Maybe if you guys tried not yelling, it wouldn't be so bad."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, cause both of you suck at listening when you're yelling."

"Watch your mouth, boy," Vegeta warned.

"Alriiiight, I'm just saying."

"Eat more, say less."

Meanwhile, Bulma was downstairs with everyone else, and was currently in a boxing fight with Gohan on the Wii. And she was losing. Growling, she exclaimed, "Ugh, this isn't fair! I need to play a human I match up with…Yamcha, get up here and fight me."

"I don't know if I should be flattered or offended," Yamcha joked while everyone laughed.

"Oooh, I want to play against Gohan!" Goten eagerly shouted, raising his hand up like he was in school. "Can I play, please, please-"

"Sure thing! Good luck," Bulma said, laughing as she tossed Goten the remote.

"I play winner!" Trunks announced as he charged down the stairs. He leapt over the rail and ran over to see better. Coming down behind him was Vegeta, though the prince's pace was leisurely compared to his son's. Bulma was genuinely surprised at the sight of him. She thought for sure that he would keep to himself, but was pleased that he was there, even if she was still mad at him.

"Hey, Vegeta," Goku jokingly called out to the prince, drawing Vegeta's attention. "Is this boxing game your training secret?"

"Figured me out, Kakarot," Vegeta deadpanned. He scanned everyone over, and then settled his gaze on Bulma. He subtly motioned for her to follow him, and then walked over to the front door, leaving the compound altogether. He waited outside by himself for a while, but finally, Bulma came out of the door too.

"I don't want to fight with you right now, Vegeta," she bluntly told him. "So if that's all you wanted-"

"I don't want to fight with you either," the prince admitted, and for the first time, she heard how tired he was. "I've had enough battles to last me a long time."

Bulma nodded slowly, and they fell into an awkward silence. They were only a few feet apart, but it certainly didn't feel like that.

"You want to get out of here?" Vegeta suddenly asked. Bulma looked at him in surprise, clearly not expecting that, but then she shook her head.

"No, we have company."

"They'll get along fine without us for a while. Some of those fools have good hearing and are too nosy for their own good anyways."

He then extended his hand towards her, and waited. Bulma hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder towards the compound. She turned back to her husband, and then reached out to take his hand. Vegeta grasped her hand, gently pulling her closer to him until they were right against each other, her chest against his. Bulma put her arms around his neck to grab on, and he put one arm securely around her. He bent his knees a little, and then they both shot up into the air.

When Vegeta's speed finally settled down, and she was certain that she was standing on firm ground, Bulma looked around, her hands lowering to his shoulders. When she saw where they were, she instantly grabbed two tight fistfuls of Vegeta's shirt, pulling herself as close to him as possible.

"Holy crap, Vegeta!" she breathed, worriedly looking down. They were on a ledge of rock on an enormous mountain, and less than a yard away from her was a dropoff that meant certain death. "We're so high up!"

"I usually go up higher. But this is a comfortable height for you. It's safe," Vegeta assured her, though the sensation of her being so close to him wasn't unwelcomed in the least. He frowned as she disengaged from him, her fear giving way to curiosity. When she finally stopped analyzing just how high they were and looked up, her breath caught in her throat.

"Wow," Bulma whispered, taking in the scenery of the mountain range they were in, illuminated by the sunset. "It's gorgeous here."

"It's better when you're higher," Vegeta quietly said, glancing up towards the top of the mountain and remembering the first time he'd visited this mountain, before Trunks was born. How long he had agonized over leaving Earth for good and letting the androids wreck the planet. If he would've had the ability back then to glimpse the future…

He had visited this exact place frequently after Cell's defeat. It calmed him, helped him clear his mind. He hoped that would be the case again tonight. Looking back at her profile, Vegeta waited for her to say something, or to look at him. She was either thoroughly enjoying the view, or ignoring him. Maybe a little of both. His son had been right. Letting her dwell inside her own thoughts would have been his worst course of action. It was best they clear the air now, with no yelling. Hopefully.

"You're still angry with me."

Bulma looked back at him, and he saw the hurt in her clear blue eyes again, plain as day. He fought the urge to look away. "I know everything worked out in the end, but…"

"I know." Vegeta swallowed, as though swallowing down his pride. "I did…what I thought I needed to do. But I was wrong. I should have never… It will never happen again. I'm sorry."

It was his first time genuinely saying those words to her, and it instantly soothed away that sting of betrayal and hurt she felt. That was what she needed to know the most; that he regretted his choice. That their years together mattered to him. Bulma studied his eyes for a bit, and then reached for his hand. Vegeta stepped up and took it, looking relieved.

"I'm sorry too," she conceded, interlacing their fingers together. "I shouldn't have come at you like that either."

He shrugged. "It's fine."

"I've just been a little, I don't know. Not fully rational when it comes to you lately, I guess. I…felt when you died," Bulma admitted with difficulty, earning a surprised look from him.

"What do you mean?" Vegeta asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Felt it? How?"

"I don't know. I can't explain it," Bulma sighed, struggling to describe that moment. "Just this feeling I had. I knew it was you, and I knew it was bad. But I ignored it, you know…but then I found out from Goku, and…" Bulma's voice wavered, but it quickly steadied when she suddenly punched him square in the chest with her free hand, as hard as she could possibly manage. Vegeta didn't move a millimeter, but his eyes widened in surprise. "You can't do that to me ever again! You're going to die a little, wrinkled old man, you hear me?"

"I'm not the one here that's in danger of getting wrinkles, female. Look, I already see some here," Vegeta teased, brushing his thumb under her eye before her tears could fall. "Perhaps there was some kind of bond formed between us after all, that I wasn't aware of…though there's no reason to shed tears over it. I certainly didn't cry when I found out _you_ died."

"Oh, shut up," Bulma sniffed, shaking her throbbing hand. "It's just my damn hand that hurts. It's like you're carved out of stone, holy crap."

"Your own damn fault. No one told you to punch me," he scoffed.

"Always such a caring husband," she sighed, though that hurt was gone now from her eyes. She even offered him a small smile, but Vegeta was scowling as he contemplated her words. He knew that she was joking, but she surely hadn't been joking earlier when she asked if he cared. That question probably wouldn't have bothered him before all this went down with Buu, but it had earlier. And thinking about it now bothered him too. He watched her while she studied her knuckles for bruises.

"It was for you, just so you know," he finally confessed, his expression serious when Bulma looked back up at him in surprise.

"What was?"

"Using that self-destruct technique against Buu. It didn't work, since the freak still lived. But I did it for you and Trunks, and I would do it again if I had to. Isn't that proof enough for you, of how much I care…of how much I…" His voice failed him.

"I know. I love you, too," she whispered, before leaning in to kiss him.

Vegeta eagerly responded by pulling her up against him, enjoying the feel of her hands, the sweetness of her kiss, the softness of her body. His hellish ordeal finally seemed worth it, not because Earth was intact and saved; but rather, because Bulma was alive and with him, and so was Trunks. They were worth dying for a thousand times if need be.

Bulma grabbed onto his shoulders tightly as his hand slowly crept up her inner thigh, brushing her dress up, feeling like it was leaving fire behind. He broke their kiss and moved down to her jaw, then her neck. All the while, his words repeated themselves over and over again in her mind. She had thought his self-destruction was only a battle strategy, the best thing he could come up with to take down Buu, and that his family had been the furthest thing from his mind at the time. But to know that he was willing to literally go to hell and back for her and their son…the same man who had once rejected Trunks, rejected _her…_ there were no words for it. Fortunately, they didn't need words.

"Vegeta," she groaned a little when her husband bit down on her ear while his hand teased her. "The get-together…" she breathed, even though her fingers were already unbuttoning his shirt.

"The party's moved to Kakarot's residence, it seems," Vegeta growled in her ear as she spread his shirt open, her hands running over his hot skin. "They're all heading that way, Trunks too. We'll get the boy afterwards."

"Well, in _that_ case…maybe we can get a little _private training_ in," Bulma teased.

Vegeta smirked a little and then lifted her up against him, hiking up her red dress while he did so she could wrap her legs around him. He turned them around and pressed her up against a wall of rock, undoing his pants at the same time. Moments later, and they were making love where only the stars could see.

Being alive again didn't get much better than this.


	2. Another Chance

After Buu's defeat, life started going back to normal for the Earth's special forces. At Capsule Corp, everyone was especially eager to get back to the usual routine. Trunks went back to school, Bulma went back to work, and Vegeta went back to his training, as though nothing had transpired. But they couldn't erase what had happened, and the effect on the family was still there.

Trunks had become more attentive with his mother in the following days, keeping his whining to a minimum whenever she asked him to do something. In those moments when she was alone with her son, Bulma saw a change in the boy that only a mother would see. She didn't know if it was his first taste of life-or-death battle, or going through the experience of losing his father – but whatever it was, Trunks seemed to be a little more appreciative of what he had. That was definitely one effect she hoped would last.

Mother and son were enjoying a quiet breakfast a week after Buu's defeat, a huge spread of food laid out on the table just for Trunks. The boy was eagerly wolfing down his food, but every so often, his eyes would drift over to the empty spot Vegeta usually occupied. He could easily pinpoint his father upstairs, still in his bedroom, and asleep by the low ki signature he was getting. Trunks scowled, slowing down the inhalation of his food to actually chew his omelet.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yeah?" Bulma responded, picking up her mug of coffee while she checked her emails on her cell phone.

"Is Dad sick?"

That got his mother's full attention. "No, he's not," she honestly answered, giving him a confused look. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, cause he usually has breakfast with us, but ever since…ya know, all that stuff happened, he hasn't been. Are you _sure_ he's not sick?"

"Your father's fine, Trunks. He'll be joining us again before you know it," Bulma assured him. Trunks looked visibly relieved. He contemplated her words for a moment, and then brightened.

"So if Dad's fine, do you think I should remind him that he promised me a surprise if I won the junior division at the tournament?" he eagerly asked.

Bulma blinked a little bit, having completely forgotten about that. Of course, Vegeta's response had been dripping with sarcasm when Trunks asked him what his prize would be if he won the tournament. Unfortunately, Trunks didn't always pick up on his father's sarcasm and had taken his answer quite literally. Not wanting to burst her son's bubble, Bulma hadn't told Trunks that his father wasn't serious. After all, she figured she would find out a way to force her husband into keeping his word. And there was no time like the present.

"You know what? You should definitely remind him when you come back from school. I'm sure he has something exciting planned."

"Cool," Trunks said with a grin, turning his attention back to his food. He shoved about five pieces of toast into his mouth and then chugged down his tenth glass of juice. Lowering his glass, he stood up and hastily brushed at his face. "Alright, gotta go."

"You better go straight to school, no stopping to see Goten like you did yesterday morning," Bulma warned, looking pointedly at him.

"You know about that?" Trunks sheepishly asked.

"As long as I'm breathing, you better believe I'll know everything you're up to, Trunks Briefs. Yesterday was your freebie. If I find out you did it again, your father will be escorting you to school every morning. And you know that he'll be a ray of sunshine doing it."

Trunks forced a chuckle. "No detours to see Goten. Got it. See you later!" he called out, before vanishing from the room in a blur. He shot up the stairs to his room, got his things ready in fractions of a second, and then the front door closed as he took off for school.

Alone at the table now, Bulma looked down at her coffee, trying to keep the concern off her features. She hadn't lied to her son when she said Vegeta wasn't ill, but there was still something off with her husband. For one thing, he seemed to be completely exhausted, and no amount of sleep seemed to be enough. For a man who was always up to train when the sun rose, Vegeta sleeping in so late and so frequently was more than a bit unusual. If she didn't know for a fact that Dende had healed him, she would've suspected a lingering head injury. She hadn't commented on it, thinking it would go away after a few days, but it was going on a week now with no change. It was probably time to start commenting.

Vegeta was sound asleep in bed, oblivious to the woman sitting next to him and intently studying him. Sprawled out on his back, he didn't stir when Bulma put a hand to his forehead. But when she moved her hand down to the side of his neck, Vegeta's hand shot out and grasped hers instinctively, and she found herself looking into his tired and bleary eyes.

"Hey hon, sorry I woke you," she whispered apologetically.

"What the hell were you trying to do, female? Strangle me in my sleep?" Vegeta grumbled, releasing her hand.

"Buddy, if I ever decide to kill you in your sleep, you'll never wake up again," Bulma retorted, moving closer to him. Vegeta snorted and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep again. But it was impossible when he felt her leaning over him and watching him.

A low growl started deep in his throat, before Vegeta finally opened his eyes and snarled out, "Infernal wench. Can't you let a man sleep?"

"You know, you've been sleeping a ton since everything happened with Buu," Bulma mused aloud, studying her husband's tired features. "That's definitely not the masochistic man I married. Are you sure Dende fully healed you?" she pressed, leaning down close to his face to examine his dark eyes for any sign of a concussion.

The prince inwardly groaned, reaching up to rub his eyes. Unfortunately, ever since Buu's defeat, his wife and son had both suddenly become overprotective of him, much to his chagrin. A sneeze during dinner one night, and Trunks was asking him if he was gravely ill and on the verge of death. A slight limp from training one afternoon, and Bulma was already ordering x-rays for him. Vegeta was trying his best to be patient with their unnecessary concern, knowing that his death was still very fresh on their minds. Since he didn't have the first clue how to truly put their minds at ease, all he could do was wait it out.

"Yes, the boy healed me," Vegeta deadpanned. He then turned onto his side, purposely giving her his back while he sneered, "He might need to heal _you_ as well, if you wake me up again to pester me with such nonsense."

"Always a morning person," Bulma chuckled, feeling at ease with his response. She leaned down to kiss his bare shoulder, before seductively whispering in his ear, "I bet you wouldn't be whining if I woke you up to _pester_ you with some dirty sex."

Vegeta fell silent for a few seconds, before questioning, "How dirty?"

" _Very_ dirty."

"Your description is far too vague. I believe a demonstration is in order," he suggestively responded.

"Sadly, I have an important meeting I need to prep for. We'll take a rain check on that demo."

"Hn. I'll remember that."

"I'm sure you will. Anyways, I saved you some breakfast downstairs, for when your royal butt finally decides to get out of bed," she teased, kissing his cheek. Vegeta rolled his eyes, and didn't bother responding as Bulma got out of their bed and headed back out of the room.

Try as he might, Vegeta couldn't go back to sleep afterwards. Rolling onto his back, the prince stared up at the ceiling for a long time. Contrary to what Bulma thought, he wasn't getting much sleep at all. He was simply leaving their room when she fell asleep, and then coming back in before the sun rose. That way, he wouldn't disturb her with his restless tossing and turning, and he wouldn't worry her. Though it seemed he hadn't been successful with the second. Grumbling to himself a bit, the prince threw off his blankets and got out of bed to get himself some breakfast.

A few hours later, Vegeta was in the gravity room, though he wasn't doing any training. The prince was sitting down, reclining back against the wall, his thoughts going back to the moments surrounding his death just days ago. Unlike his first bout with death, where his memories of the afterlife had been nothing but a blur of physical pain afterwards, this time his memories were crystal clear. And consequently, much harder to ignore. He had easily blocked it all out while battling Buu, but his mind frequently went back to that place now that he had downtime. Try as he could not to think about it, he couldn't help but do just that.

He was so lost in his own brooding thoughts, that he didn't realize Bulma was outside of the gravity room, banging on the door and calling for him. It wasn't until she activated the emergency override that she got his attention. Vegeta glanced over as Bulma stalked inside and put her hands on her hips while she glared daggers at him.

"Did you not hear me calling you?" she demanded in exasperation. "I was calling for you for like three minutes! I thought you had passed out in here or something!"

Vegeta shrugged with indifference and looked away. Bulma exhaled slowly while she looked her husband over. He was dressed in his blue spandex pants and white boots to train, but there wasn't a drop of sweat on him. Come to think of it, she hadn't heard the gravity simulator powering down before the door opened for her.

"Have you just been sitting there all morning?" Bulma asked him in confusion.

The prince scowled. "What do you want?"

"Catering just got here. I thought maybe you and I could have a nice lunch together."

"You eat. I'm not hungry right now."

Bulma frowned in concern. Vegeta's appetite hadn't quite been the same since he was brought back to life. It was a change she noticed and didn't like one bit. Instead of eating like a Saiyan, the man was suddenly eating like a normal human. He wasn't starving, but it still wasn't enough for him.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Bulma pressed after a moment of studying him. "You've never turned down-"

"I'm fine. Go eat."

She sighed. As long as the man had air in his lungs, he was "fine" by his standard. She wasn't convinced, but she let it go for now.

"Alright, whatever you say. Oh, and I forgot to tell you earlier, but you remember when you promised Trunks you'd give him a surprise if he won the junior division at the martial arts tournament?" Vegeta grunted absent-mindedly, even though he had already zoned out. "Yeah, I forgot too. But I'm just letting you know, he's looking to cash in. So think of something we can do or give him, and make it good."

"Fine," Vegeta replied with indifference. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he had barely heard a word she'd said.

"Alright, what the hell's going on, Vegeta?" Bulma finally demanded, getting his full attention for the first time since she got there.

" _Now_ what are you rambling about, woman?" the prince growled.

"Something is on your mind, and I'm not leaving until you tell me what."

"Fine. I was thinking how nice it was when I was alone in my space pod," he sneered. "At least it was quiet-"

"Nice try, but I'm still waiting."

"You are being ridiculous-"

"Still waiting, sweetheart," Bulma cut in, folding her arms over her chest.

"Did you not hear what I said?" Vegeta snarled in frustration. "I'm fine. There is nothing to tell-"

"Save the spiel for someone who doesn't know you."

He scoffed. "Female, you don't know me."

"Oh, I _know_ you, buddy boy. And this isn't the first time you've zoned out on me over the last week. So just tell me."

"And if I don't?" Vegeta challenged.

"Ah, so there _is_ something to tell," Bulma triumphantly concluded, lowering her hands back to her hips. Vegeta blinked in surprise, and then his features settled into a hard glare as he looked away. He said nothing when he felt his wife sitting down next to him, and did nothing when he felt her eyes on him.

"Is it bad?" Bulma asked after a moment of silence. Vegeta shook his head. "Then why won't you tell me?"

"Because you seem to be under the impression that just because I died, I'm somehow made of glass now."

"I don't think you're made of glass. Stone, maybe," she joked, poking his steel-hard bicep. Vegeta rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I know I've been a little paranoid with you, Vegeta, but you died, and since then, you haven't exactly been your normal self. Can you blame me?"

Vegeta considered her words for a moment, before grumbling, "I haven't been oversleeping."

"You've been getting up then," Bulma concluded. It was the only logical conclusion. His restless sleep patterns always woke her up, after all. She moved a little closer to him. "Why?"

He was silent for almost an entire minute before responding. "I don't remember the first time I died, what it was like on the other side. Just that there was always constant pain. That was my punishment, I suppose. Nothing but physical pain. It felt like it went on for decades…" Vegeta lapsed into silence again, falling into thought as Bulma carefully studied him. He didn't look distressed, but rather, had a look on his face like he was trying to figure something out.

"Was it like that again the second time around?"

He snorted. "I wish it had been. But I got a different punishment this time. This time, I relived my life while serving Frieza. Every last beating, every last kill, every last moment…like I was there all over again. It always ended when I left to come to Earth, and then it started again, from the moment my father handed me over. The loop was only broken when I was summoned to help fight against Buu. Otherwise, I'm certain it would've gone on for all eternity."

Bulma knew it was irrational to feel angry over hearing that. After all, she knew that her husband wasn't an innocent man. Who was she, a mere mortal human woman, to claim that his punishment had been unfair? Still, she couldn't help it. In her eyes, Vegeta had lost his evil edge a long time ago. She reached out to put her hand on his knee.

"That's terrible-"

"It's not, so don't pity me because of it," he gruffly cut in. "It's less than what I deserve, and I don't mind the punishment. I do, however, have a problem with some of the memories."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw things in the afterlife, where if I didn't have physical scars left over, I would never believe I actually lived through. I apparently blocked out those memories a long time ago."

"So that's what's been bothering you? That you forgot things that happened years ago?"

"These aren't small and trivial events, Bulma. These blocked memories all included some of the worst, most cruel things I've ever…" Vegeta's voice trailed off, and he was briefly lost to a haze of memories so violent, he could hear the screams and smell the blood. He shook his head to snap out of it, hissing in frustration, "They're things I should have never forgotten in the first place! Who knows what other things I can't remember? What if we come across an old enemy and I can't remember encountering them before? Then the entire planet will be compromised-"

"Vegeta, honey, you're getting way ahead of yourself. You'll drive yourself crazy thinking like this. There are no old enemies here to worry about, and it's okay if you don't remember every last thing you went through."

"It's _not_ okay, foolish woman. Even if there is no enemy threat, I'd like intact memories so I can be better prepared the next time I'm scheduled to suffer for all eternity."

"For all you know, you might not even be punished next time you die." Vegeta cast her a look of pure disgust, and Bulma exclaimed, "I'm serious!"

The prince just shook his head in disbelief. "It truly amazes me that you can be so intelligent and so idiotic at the same time."

"I'm not idiotic, bud, I'm freaking _brilliant._ In fact, I already have a plan that'll solve all your problems and put your mind at ease."

"Is that a fact? And what is this brilliant plan?"

"Simple. We gather the Dragon Balls, and wish for immortality. No one dies, problem solved," Bulma smugly announced. Vegeta looked away from her, trying to look indifferent, but he was fighting back a smile. "It'll be flawless. You, me, and Trunks. The three of us can live forever, rule the planet, make everyone our slaves. You know, all that fun, evil stuff. Oh, it'd be so great – I could always see new technological innovations over the centuries! And I would be gorgeous forever-"

"Woman, you're completely insane," the prince snorted, barely able to rein in his laughter. Bulma smiled and moved over so that she was straddling him, making Vegeta instinctively settle his hands on her hips.

"You don't want to take over this planet with me? I'm a little offended, Vegeta."

"I'd rather let Buu take over, to be honest," he deadpanned. "It'd be less frightening for the rest of the Earthlings than having you in charge."

"Jackass," Bulma chuckled. Vegeta smirked while he slowly moved his hands up and down her legs, his eyes on her breasts like a predator considering his next meal. Bulma ran her hands down his perfect physique, loving the way his muscles flexed under her fingers. She finally worked her hands back up to his face, making him look back up at her.

"Stop overanalyzing so much," she whispered against his lips. "Bottom line is that you got another chance. Whatever happens when you die again is going to happen. Right now, this might be all we get, so don't waste it."

Vegeta grunted his agreement. "Fine, but _you_ need to stop acting like death is around the corner for me, and I'm some weak fool who can't avoid it. I'm alive and I plan on remaining that way for a long time."

Bulma laughed huskily, shifting a little on his crotch. "Oh yeah, you're alive alright."

"Vulgar woman," Vegeta growled while he started sliding up her blouse. "How long do you have for lunch?"

"Just under an hour. Why, you want to have lunch with me now?" she teased, helping him remove her blouse and leaving her in a snug red bra that left little to the imagination. Vegeta smirked and licked his lips as his eyes roamed over her body.

"Depends what's on the menu…"

* * *

Later that day, Vegeta was feeling much better – something he attributed more to his afternoon session with Bulma than to his actual conversation with her. Regardless, he was sitting in the library of Capsule Corp, reclining against the window. It had become a side project of his to read through all of the books in the impressive library to learn more about the culture on Earth. Despite living on the planet for a decade, there was always something new to learn. And at the moment, it was a welcomed distraction.

He heard the door slam downstairs, and then began a silent countdown. _Five…four…three…two…_

Trunks burst into the library, immediately charging over to his father and dumping his bookbag on the first table he saw. "Hey Dad! Guess what?"

The prince grunted in acknowledgement, putting aside his book on sharks to look at his son. "I don't _guess_ , boy."

Trunks blinked a bit. "Oh. Right. Well, I got an A on my math quiz! Isn't that awesome? It was SO easy, it was pretty much a joke."

"Hn. Good." Vegeta shifted over so that he was sitting on the window ledge, facing his son. "So, your mother tells me that I have a promise to keep with you, since you won the tournament."

Trunks visibly brightened, nodding. "Uh huh. You promised a surp-"

"I know what I promised. And you must know that I don't do well coming up with surprises in anything that's not battle-related. So you can choose what you want as your reward."

Looking like he had fully been expecting to hear that, Trunks smirked. "I can have ANYTHING I want?"

"Within reason," Vegeta growled. "I have to approve, and so does your mo-"

"I want to go on a vacation!" Trunks excitedly blurted out.

"…A _vacation_ ," Vegeta blandly repeated.

"Yeah, a vacation! Almost everyone else in school has been on a real vacation, like going to see stuff and taking sweet pictures and riding awesome rides. But we've never gone on a vacation and I want to go! It sounds really cool."

Vegeta reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to be patient. "Trunks, you can fly fast enough to traverse the entire planet multiple times during a bathroom break at school. Where could you possibly want to go visit?"

"Yeah, that's a real good question, Dad," Trunks chuckled, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "So the other day, I was hanging out with Goten, Gohan, and Piccolo at Goten's house. And Gohan and Piccolo were talking about a planet called Namek. Goten says that Gohan told him that you all went there a long time ago, so I was thinking-"

"No."

"But-!"

"No."

"DAD, you're not even letting me talk!" Trunks whined.

"Fine. Speak then."

"We don't have to go to NAMEK, but, I thought it'd be really, really cool if we could go somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else?" Vegeta repeated, his eyes narrowing. " _Define_ somewhere else."

"Somewhere else in space, besides Namek. Another planet or something-"

"No."

"But why not?" Trunks demanded. "Gohan was around my age when he went to Namek and he got to go!"

"What exactly do you know about that trip to Namek, boy?"

Trunks frowned in thought, biting his bottom lip. "Uh…you guys went to Namek to get the Dragon Balls, and you brought back Dende, and now he watches over Earth and stuff. Erm…that's all I know."

"Who told you that?"

"No one. I've just heard stuff, when Piccolo and Gohan are talking."

"That's all you know?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's it."

Vegeta stared hard at the boy in front of him, but Trunks had never once been able to lie to his face and get away with it. The boy was just like his mother in that regard - completely transparent. Finally, the prince was satisfied that his son had told him the truth. He picked up his book again, and shifted back to recline against the glass, opening his book on his lap.

"We are not going out to space, so think of something else."

Trunks' features fell in disappointment. "But why not?"

"Because I said so."

"That's not fair though!"

Vegeta growled a little in warning. "Watch how you talk to me, boy, before I put you through this window. I said no and that's final. Come up with something else, or don't and get nothing. I'm fine either way."

Trunks scowled, and then turned around, picking up his bookbag and walking out of there in a sulk. Moments later, the prince heard the door to his son's room slamming loudly. Vegeta rolled his eyes and went back to reading his book, and soon, forgot about the exchange entirely.

Bulma didn't need to be a genius to figure out that something was wrong later that night. For one, Trunks had given nothing but one-word answers to her over dinner, sulking while he ate. Vegeta had eaten a good amount, which was a good sign, but he seemed far more interested in his food than figuring out what was wrong with their son. That of course meant that he knew the reason behind the boy's poor mood. Now the prince was scrolling through channels on the TV, and Trunks was glaring down at his homework at the dinner table. But no matter how many times Bulma asked Trunks what was wrong, she got "nothing" back as her answer. When the boy wanted to, he could be just as stubborn as his parents combined.

When Trunks headed upstairs to get more supplies, Bulma went over and sat down next to her husband on the sofa. Vegeta had been zoned out, but he snapped out of it when she sat with him.

"What's wrong with Trunks? And don't tell me it's nothing, or I will disable the gravity room for a month."

It took a moment for Vegeta to remember his conversation with his son, and then he rolled his eyes, looking back at the TV. "He is being a brat. I made him a fair offer, and he is behaving like a child."

"Vegeta, Trunks is eight years old. He _is_ a child."

The prince glared at her. "Don't defend him."

"How is that defending him? It's the truth!"

"I told him he could have whatever he wanted, within reason. He said he wants to go on a vacation."

"What's wrong with that? That's actually a really great idea," Bulma said as she brightened. "I think that'd be really good for all three of us. Get away from everything. Clear our minds a bit. Get everything around here back to normal-"

"Woman, he wants to go into _space._ He's heard about us going to Namek, though he knows little to nothing about the true circumstances. He wants a similar adventure."

It only took a second for Bulma to see the reason for Trunks' mood. "Well, you're both strong, Vegeta. I think it would be okay-"

"Are you insane?" Vegeta hissed. "We can't just venture off exploring random planets. I have no idea what the situation in space is like now. If some empires even got an _inkling_ that I might still be alive, they would wipe out this entire galaxy. We would never even get a chance to fight back before they blew us into space dust, and that would be a kind fate. You said earlier that I have no old enemies to worry about? Well, I would like it to stay that way."

Bulma checked for signs of her son, before whispering, "I understand what you're saying, but Trunks doesn't know about any of that…maybe if you sat down with him, and explained-"

"No," Vegeta roughly interrupted.

"You said you would tell him the truth one day."

"That day is _not_ today."

There was no room for argument in Vegeta's terse voice, and Bulma knew that she would not win this one. That inevitable conversation had to come from her husband, not from her, and so she relented.

"Alright, well, we'll compromise. How about we tell him he can pick anywhere he wants to visit on the planet, and we bring Goten along with us?"

"You must be joking." Vegeta studied his wife's eyes, saw that she was serious, and then he leaned his head back and inwardly groaned. He barely even wanted to go on a vacation with just Trunks and Bulma, much less with Goten tagging along. "Why can't that fool Kakarot take his mini clone fishing while we're gone? Why must that damn boy _always_ be with us whenever we do something?"

"Because he's Trunks' best friend, Vegeta. And, if we don't invite him along, he might ask Chi-Chi and Goku to go on a vacation with us. Then we'll all go, two families vacationing together-"

"Stop it, woman. I just ate recently."

"It's settled then?" Bulma asked with a smile. Vegeta just shook his head in defeat, picking up the remote to the TV as he proceeded to ignore her. She took that as a yes, and called loudly for her son.

A heartbeat later, and they both heard his racing footsteps, before Trunks finally ran over to them. The boy gave his father a glance, but Vegeta was ignoring both of them now in favor for animals being ripped into bloody pieces on the TV. Trunks then turned his attention back to his mother.

"Your father and I talked about the vacation idea, and we're going to make you a deal. You pick somewhere for us to go, on this planet, and we'll bring Goten along with us. Take it or leave it, kiddo."

Trunks frowned, but then nodded his acceptance. "We can go _anywhere_?"

Bulma gave him a knowing smile. "Where are you thinking?"

"One of my friends at school said his family went to Magic Ice for vacation."

"Magic Ice it is. I'll talk to Chi-Chi and see when's a good time for us to bring Goten along," Bulma agreed, making Trunks whoop in happiness before charging back up the stairs to call Goten and share the news.

" _Magic Ice_?" Vegeta echoed, frowning in confusion. "I didn't know there was real magic on this planet aside from the Dragon Balls."

"There's no magic involved, Vegeta," Bulma laughed, kissing him the cheek. "It's just a water themed vacation spot. A little touristy but it's okay. Kids love it. I'm sure we'll all have a good time."

"Hn."

"This will be good for us."

Vegeta nodded his agreement, and didn't breathe a word of complaint as Bulma leaned into his side. She had a point. All three of them needed something to rid all the adverse effects of the ordeal with Buu. A change of scenery for a few days was probably exactly what they needed – especially him. The prince resolved that he would go into the family vacation with a good attitude, and try his best not to dampen the experience for his family. After a few minutes of watching Bulma flip through the different channels, Vegeta relented and put his arm around his wife, much to Bulma's surprise and delight.

She was right. He had another chance, and this time, he was going to make it count.


	3. Magic Ice

It was mostly still dark outside, but there was a soft glow of light that was just starting to come out in the distance as the sun began to rise. A short time later, and it was starting to peek through the curtains of Bulma and Vegeta's bedroom. The couple was sound asleep, wrapped up in each other in only their second night of real sleep after the Buu ordeal. They were lying face to face, with Bulma hugging her husband around his waist as though she'd lose him again if she didn't. Vegeta's face was nestled in her hair so he'd be as close as possible to the soothing feminine scent that calmed his mind enough for him to rest.

They would've both remained undisturbed well into the morning, but their son had other plans.

Trunks suddenly barreled into his parents' bedroom half an hour later, startling both of his parents right out of their comfortable sleep. Bulma self-consciously grabbed at the covers, pulling them up over her chest while her husband squinted tiredly at their son.

"Good morning!" Trunks shouted happily, running straight towards the curtains.

Before Vegeta or Bulma could get a word out, the boy yanked the curtains open. The sun had now risen, and the bright light instantly poured in, making Vegeta growl angrily as Bulma covered herself completely in her blankets, with only parts of her blue hair showing. Trunks whirled around, grinning widely.

"You guys, it's time to get up! What're you guys still doing in bed, huh? The sun is up, come _on!"_

Vegeta sighed and rolled over in bed, burying his face into his pillow. "Woman, handle your son before I kill him," he mumbled.

"I have no son right now," Bulma groaned from underneath her blankets.

Trunks' grin slowly turned into a mean-looking scowl. He put his hands on his hips, leaning forward as he angrily informed his parents, "We're gonna be late if you two don't get up outta bed, and then we're gonna miss all the fun at Magic Ice!"

Bulma yawned slowly and lowered her blankets off her face, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "What time is it anyways?" she asked, squinting over at the clock.

"Time to make Kakarot and his harpy wife adopt the annoying brat that's in our room," Vegeta grumbled into his pillow.

"Actually, it's 6 in the morning," Trunks corrected. He sighed dramatically, starting to wave his arms around as he wailed, "And by the time Mom puts all that makeup and stuff on her face it'll be like 10 freaking o'clock!"

Vegeta pressed his face further into his pillow, trying to stifle his laughter as Bulma sat up and gave her son a look that would have made other children cry. "First of all, you keep it up and we won't be going anywhere, young man," she warned him. "Second of all, it does NOT take me that long to get ready! Now get out so I can start getting dressed, or I'm going to start waking YOU up at 6 in the morning for school!"

"Tch!" Trunks exhaled in exasperation, turning on his heel and heading towards the door while mumbling under his breath, "Alriiiight, but I bet we'll still be here at 10…"

"I _heard_ that!" Bulma shouted, making Trunks quicken his pace and make his escape, closing the door to his parents' room behind him. Bulma huffed, glaring at the door. "I gotta drag that kid out of bed every morning for school, and he's up before the sun rises to go on a vacation, why I oughta…and just WHAT is so funny, you jerk?" she demanded, turning her attention to her husband who couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him.

"Your annoyance with the boy, considering my son is right," he mockingly informed her, his voice muffled by his pillow. "It always takes you half the day to get ready for any kind of event, which makes no sense, considering you still look hideous when you're done."

Vegeta easily blocked the swat aimed at the back of his head with one hand. He grabbed his wife's wrist and rolled over onto his back, hauling Bulma over with him and forcing her on top of him. He seized her other wrist before she could even think about raising her other hand against him, and flashed her an infuriating, triumphant smirk as she struggled in vain to free her hands from his strong grip.

"Weak female, I could end you any second I wanted," Vegeta arrogantly taunted. Bulma stopped her struggling, huffing once as she glared down at him. She ran her tongue over her teeth, and then offered him a coy smile.

"Is that right?" she teased, shifting and seductively spreading her body over his. Vegeta grunted, his eyes drifting closed when he felt Bulma's thigh suggestively rubbing against his crotch. "Not if I end you first," she whispered against his lips.

"You don't fight fair, woman," he growled.

"I learned from the best."

Vegeta reached up for her and pulled her down into a dominant kiss, sighing into it when she brought her hands up to his face. He slowly was turning them over so he could be on top, when they both heard a loud pounding on their door.

"Hey, I know what you guys are gonna start doing in there!" Trunks shouted, making Vegeta and Bulma both look over at the door in alarm. "You can't start your private training right now, Mom's gotta get ready! Plus, Goten just got here so you guys gotta hurry up!"

Vegeta groaned and lowered his head, resting his forehead on Bulma's shoulder. "Can I kill Kakarot's brat for being in my home this early? I'll include your son as well, free of charge."

"They're both just excited to go on a vacation. You know how they are," Bulma sighed, pushing at the Saiyan's shoulders so he would get off her. Vegeta reluctantly did, scowling as he rolled off her.

"When are we returning from this thing anyways?" he demanded.

Bulma shot Vegeta a look of exasperation. "Damn it, Vegeta, we haven't even left yet and you're already asking when we're going to come back home? Can't you wait until I've at least had my cup of coffee before you start whining?"

"I am not _whining_ , damn woman," Vegeta growled, moving over so he was sitting on the opposite edge of the bed. "Asking when we'll return from this ridiculous trip is a legitimate question."

"We'll be there two days. The boys have school on Monday, after all. I already _told_ you this, if you ever actually listened to me when I talk to you," she snapped at him, shooting his back a glare.

"Whatever," he gruffly replied with indifference, getting up to his feet. He walked over to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower first, since you'll undoubtedly need the entire morning to prepare yourself for this trip."

"I do NOT need all morning to get ready, you jerk," Bulma huffed, but Vegeta had already closed the door after him. She rolled her eyes, heading downstairs.

The coffee machine in the kitchen was just about halfway done when Bulma checked it. She double-checked that there was enough there for her and Vegeta, especially since her husband liked to down two cups before breakfast. She was just adjusting the settings to try to quicken the process, when she was startled half-to-death as Goku suddenly teleported into her kitchen right next to her. She cursed, spinning to face him, one hand on her chest.

"Holy crap, Goku," Bulma exhaled slowly, trying to get her heart to settle down. "I didn't know you were coming over. I ought to get you a cell phone so you can call first."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Goku sheepishly said. "I felt that all of you guys were up, so I figured you were about ready to go."

"Oh yeah, I was just making myself and Vegeta some coffee. Then I was going to get everything together, then get myself ready, then we were going to go."

"Great! Do you think it'd be alright if I tagged along?" Goku asked with a wide grin. "A vacation sounds like it'd be a lot of fun!"

Bulma blinked a few times, visibly caught off guard. She sighed and smiled. "Sure, Goku, of course. You know you're always welcome, but I really wish you'd given me some notice. I already booked two hotel rooms for tonight, one for me and Vegeta, and one for the boys."

"Ah, that doesn't matter, I can figure that out. Maybe I can just crash with the boys."

"Tch, good luck with _that_ ," Bulma scoffed, finally pouring herself a hot cup of coffee. "Every time those two have a sleep over, they stay up half the night talking. Vegeta has to go in there and threaten them with bodily harm for them to lay down and go to sleep."

Goku smiled and nodded. "Yeah, well, that's part of why I want to come. Goten and I, we're still getting to know each other." He cleared his throat, scratching awkwardly at the back of his head. His smile was suddenly strained. "I missed more time than I thought…"

"I know," Bulma gently said. "Don't worry about it, there's always room for you. Is Chi-Chi coming too?"

"No, she's spending the day with Gohan and Videl. She's really drilling Videl about us having grandkids," he chuckled. "I have our car parked outside, so I can practice driving with the upgrades you put on it. Besides, Chi-Chi says I can't talk to Goten as much if we use instant transmission all the time."

"Well, I think both you and Vegeta could learn a thing or two by listening to your fabulous and beautiful wives."

"Woman, I think you'd do well to tone down your arrogance," the prince sneered as he walked into the kitchen, only wearing a loose pair of shorts with a towel draped over his shoulders. He scowled at the other Saiyan male with Bulma, not returning the smile Goku offered him.

"Oh, because _you're_ one to talk, Prince Vegeta," Bulma snorted, pouring her husband a cup of hot coffee. "If you had it your way, I'd be hand-feeding every meal to you naked and worshipping the ground you walk on, and you'd rename this planet after you."

Vegeta chuckled, taking the cup from her. "Not a bad plan, female. Maybe I _should_ listen to you more," he teased, making Bulma shake her head.

He took a sip of his coffee, his gaze shifting back over to Goku. His eyes narrowed suspiciously while he drank his coffee, especially when he saw what the other Saiyan was wearing. Goku was wearing a bright red button-down shirt, with loose black swimming trunks. There was a pair of sunglasses that looked like Master Roshi's perched on his head, nestled right into his hair. Vegeta lowered his cup, stared at Goku a moment longer, then looked back to his wife.

"No," he growled, no room for argument in his tone.

"Vegeta-"

"I said no," Vegeta cut in again, angrily pointing at Goku with his free hand. "I did not agree to this. This fool is _not_ coming with us."

"Aw come on, Vegeta," Goku laughed, reaching over and patting Vegeta on the shoulder and nearly making the elder Saiyan spill his coffee from how quickly he moved out of Goku's reach. "I have my own car, so you won't even see me when we're going there! Come on, we're friends now, this'll be fun!"

Vegeta reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He wouldn't go back on his word to his son, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy this trip. The thought of being stuck in such a place for two days, with other men constantly ogling his wife, with two boys who were constantly getting in trouble, AND with Goku tagging along? Suffice to say, it made the prince want to blast his head off.

"Come on, hon, don't be difficult," Bulma coaxed, putting a hand on Vegeta's arm. He looked over at her, exhaling through his nose when he saw the smile she was offering him.

"Aw it's alright, I don't have to come, Bulma," Goku softly conceded, getting their attention. "I just wanted to spend time with Goten, since I barely know the kid, and I missed the first seven years of his life…" he sighed, lowering his gaze to the floor. Vegeta's eye started twitching at the sight. Goku continued in the same tone he used to get his way with Chi-Chi, "I guess I can just wait here, all alone, til you guys come back…"

"Fine!" Vegeta finally yelled, cracks spreading on the handle of his ceramic Capsule Corp coffee mug. He grunted and turned his back to Goku and Bulma. "Whatever, you can come with us if you want, I don't care," he snapped. The prince then stalked right out of the kitchen without another word, missing the triumphant grin on Goku's face.

Bulma, though, didn't miss it. She gave her oldest friend an approving smile. "Not bad."

"I dunno what you mean," Goku awkwardly chuckled, lowering his sunglasses so they were covering his eyes.

"Mhmm. Sure you don't," Bulma laughed, turning to go back upstairs. "I'm going to get ready, and we'll head out in about half an hour."

"Sounds great!"

An hour later, and they were all still in Capsule Corp. Goku, Trunks, and Goten were ready to go. The two boys were playing video games in the living room, with Goku was alternating between watching the screen and watching them – especially his son.

Vegeta hadn't been the only one who had come home from defeating Buu to have emotionally draining conversations with his wife and his son. After everyone had left their home, Goku and Chi-Chi had had a heart-to-heart conversation that seemed a decade overdue. The conversation had ended in happy tears of relief on her part that he was back, and then lovemaking until the sun rose the next morning.

The talk with Gohan the next day hadn't gone as smoothly. He hadn't known how hard his oldest son had taken his death, and their talk had lasted hours as Gohan finally got things off his chest that he'd been hanging onto for years. Everything was much better after that, but Goku's eyes had been opened during that talk. He couldn't change the years he'd been gone from his sons' lives, but he could change the years to come.

His attention was diverted when he heard screaming upstairs. Goku curiously glanced up, hearing Vegeta and Bulma both yelling at each other in their bedroom, and then he looked back down at the boys again. Goten and Trunks exchanged an anxious glance, and then quickly went about shutting down the video game.

"What's going on?" Goku curiously asked.

"My mom's ready to go," Trunks informed him, working rapidly with Goten to put the controllers to their game away. "She'll be down here in thirty seconds, and if we're not ready, we're gonna get in big trouble!"

"Oh," Goku said, blinking a few times. "But, Bulma doesn't really sound like she's ready-"

"That's cause my dad is doing something to slow us down, which is making her mad. Goten, make sure you grab your bag!"

"Already got it!" Goten brightly said, raising his bookbag to show his friend. Goku was going to comment again, when they all heard Bulma.

"YOU WILL _WEAR_ THIS OUTFIT, AND THAT IS FINAL, VEGETA!"

"I WILL _NOT,_ DAMN FEMALE!"

"THE REST OF US LOOK LIKE WE'RE GOING ON A VACATION, AND YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'RE GOING TO A FUNERAL!"

"YOUR FUNERAL WILL BE ARRANGED SOON IF YOU DON'T STOP PESTERING ME!"

Bulma's voice suddenly dropped enough so that they couldn't hear her response, and then there was no more yelling. Right at the thirty second mark that Trunks predicted, Bulma appeared on the steps. She was wearing an open white shirt that showed off a blue bikini top underneath, and very short shorts. She looked over at Goku and the boys, lowering her shades over her eyes.

"Well? You guys ready to go?"

"Yeah!" Trunks and Goten both shouted at the same time.

"Alright then, get a move on to the car."

Trunks' face scrunched up in confusion. "We're driving?"

"Of course we are!" Bulma laughed, going down the stairs and heading towards the door. "We'll leave Goku behind in his car if we take the hover jet. Besides, going in the car will give us plenty of time to talk, and tell stories, and-"

"Wow, Mom. That sounds really boring," Trunks muttered.

"Excuse me, it is NOT boring!" Bulma snapped, making Trunks snap his mouth shut and gulp. "A vacation is about spending time together with family, not just splashing around in an amusement park! Besides, I have lots of stories that you boys haven't heard yet. I mean, when I was only a teenager, I went all over the world!" she excitedly informed them, looking over at Goku. "Isn't that right?"

"That's right," Goku agreed with a grin. "Those days sure were fun."

"They were! Why, one time-"

"Shut up, woman. No one cares about your ridiculous adolescent adventures," Vegeta angrily interrupted, getting everyone's attention.

"Well, look who decided to finally grace us with his royal presence," Bulma teased, eyeing her husband over in approval as he walked down the stairs. She didn't notice the two young boys behind her snickering quietly as she gave Vegeta a flirtatious smile. "You're looking very handsome right now, sweetheart."

"I despise you," Vegeta snarled, coming down to the bottom step. The prince was clad in a dark blue button down shirt, with a myriad of pink flowers plastered all over it. He also had on loose white shorts, some flip flops, and he was wearing a white Capsule Corp visor. The outfit was only topped by the blush on his face.

"Looking pretty stylish there, Vegeta," Goku chuckled.

The prince growled low in his throat, before he snapped, "I'll look more stylish when I'm wearing your blood, Kakarot!"

"Oh, come on hon, don't be a grouch," Bulma laughed, hooking her arm with her husband's.

"Whatever," Vegeta mumbled, his shoulders slumping a little in defeat. He remembered his earlier vow not to ruin this for his family, and so he sighed. "Let's just get on with it."

The boys both hollered in happiness, running out the door, with the adults bringing up the rear. As soon as they got outside, Vegeta's attention was diverted to Goku and his car, which he'd never seen the other man use. The car itself was nowhere near as nice as the sleek sports mobile he and Bulma would be riding in, but it was decent enough. Vegeta frowned at the vehicle, wondering why Goku even bothered bringing it when the younger Saiyan could teleport wherever he wanted. As though catching that thought, Goku shot him a smile as he climbed into his small car.

"You gonna drive your car, Vegeta?"

The prince scoffed. "No. The woman can drive it."

"Oh." Goku's grin spread, like he just put two and two together. "Oh! I get it. You don't know how to drive, do you?"

"Of course I do!" Vegeta snapped, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "I just don't lower myself to do it."

"But how do ya know how to drive, if you never drive?" Goku wondered.

"Driving isn't like fighting. Once you learn, you learn. There is no skill involved."

"Okay, Vegeta," Goku chuckled, which only raised the ire of his fellow Saiyan.

"What is so funny, clown?"

"Nothin'."

"Hn. I'll show you," Vegeta growled, stalking over to Bulma as she closed the trunk of their car. "Woman!" he yelled, visibly startling her as she spun to face him. "Hand me the key to this thing."

Bulma blinked. "You want to drive?"

"No, I just want to marvel at a piece of metal for no reason," Vegeta sneered. "Of course I want to drive! Now hand it over!"

"Alright, alright, geez. Here, take it," Bulma said, eager to be driven around for once. She deserved to be chauffeured every now and then, after all. She extended the key to him, and Vegeta snatched it and marched over to the front of the car while Bulma went around to sit in the front with him. The boys ran to get in the backseat, when Goku called out to Goten.

"Hey, Goten!"

"Huh?" The boy froze, one foot already inside the car as he looked back at his father in surprise. It was the first time he even noticed that Goku had brought their family car with him.

Goku offered him a warm smile, motioning for the seat next to him. "How about you ride with me to Magic Ice? You can sit in the front! What do ya say?"

"Oh." Goten bit at his bottom lip a bit, looking over at Trunks, and then looking back at Goku.

"Hurry up and go over there, boy," Vegeta roughly ordered as he got reacquainted with the vehicle he was going to be driving. He inserted the key and started the engine while Bulma and Trunks buckled up.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna ride with Trunks," Goten called back to his father, making Bulma and Vegeta exchange a look of surprise. Goten offered Goku a big smile and a wave, and then scrambled into the car, buckling up right away out of instinct. In doing so, he missed the way Goku's smile fractured at his words.

"Goten, you sure you don't wanna ride with your dad?" Bulma questioned.

"Yeah, I want to ride with you guys more," Goten brightly said.

"Alright!" Trunks yelled happily, doing a fist bump with Goten. Vegeta frowned and looked up at the rearview mirror at Goku. He drummed his fingers a little bit on the steering wheel, debating if he should say something. Finally, he sighed.

 _These brats are inseparable, Kakarot,_ he telepathically sent the younger Saiyan. _Where one goes, the other follows._

 _They're best friends, I know._ Goku sent with a nod, starting up his car. _Maybe on the way back,_ he optimistically sent back.

Not knowing what else to say, Vegeta dropped the subject completely. _Follow us there, and don't get lost, idiot._

_Oh, I already know the place. It's not far from Videl's. I'll see ya there!_

With that, Goku's small, modest little car shot past the fancy sports car in a blur. Vegeta growled and instantly floored the accelerator so hard, he nearly broke the pedal. The car spun around, leaving marks on the pavement as they sped off after Goku.

"Holy crap, Vegeta!" Bulma shrieked, one hand over her heart. She looked back over at the boys in the back, but they were both only laughing and cheering Vegeta to drive faster. No, if anyone was in danger in the vehicle, it was her. "Will you slow down?" she finally shouted. "This is a classic antique model, and you're gonna wreck it! You're driving like a lunatic!"

Vegeta scoffed as his car slowly caught up to Goku's. "Woman, calm yourself. I have driven and operated a thousand different space vehicles-"

"I don't care about your stupid space vehicles, I care about you wrecking my baby!" Bulma yelled at him.

Trunks rolled his eyes. "Aw, Mom, I'm fine."

"I wasn't talking about you!" she shot at him, making Trunks blink. "The only thing that could ever wreck YOU is your father!"

"Damn right," Vegeta smugly agreed, looking out his driver's window to see Goku driving next to him. The younger Saiyan glanced over at him and grinned, flashing him a peace sign with his fingers. Goku then sped off, laughing all the way while Vegeta gaped after him.

"How fast can that piece of garbage go?" he cried out.

"Oh, Goku told me it was way too slow and he asked for an upgrade a week ago, so I gave him one."

"And you didn't give your own vehicle an upgrade?" Vegeta snarled angrily.

"Hey, this bad boy doesn't need an upgrade, buddy! It's the fastest land vehicle on the planet!" The prince scowled, his eyes skirting over the various controls in the car while Bulma continued ranting, "Just because YOU don't know how to fully operate it, don't criticize-"

Vegeta slammed his hand into the dashboard, hitting a slew of buttons all at once. Their car suddenly shot off in a blur, forcing Bulma back against her seat and forcing her blood pressure to shoot through the roof. The two Saiyans were zigzagging between other cars, both trying to win their impromptu race. Trunks and Goten resumed their cheering, each of them hollering for their respective father to win. Vegeta was cackling maniacally while Bulma just held on for dear life.

Their hour long drive was cut down to fifteen minutes – five of which included Bulma sweet-talking a police officer into not giving either Saiyan a speeding ticket after they arrived at Magic Ice. Sometimes, it paid to be as gorgeous as she was. A kiss on the cheek and a wink was all it took to get the tickets brought down to mere warnings, much to her husband's annoyance.

They had barely arrived, and Vegeta already wanted to leave. He had gotten distracted by the flashing lights from the police officer, and that had given Goku enough edge to win their race. That was enough to put him into a bad mood, and watching Bulma blatantly flirt with the officer did not help. He was muttering to himself as he retrieved their belongings that Bulma hadn't capsulized from the back of the car. He hoped this place sold alcohol.

"Good race, Vegeta! That was really close, you almost beat me," Goku brightly said.

Vegeta's eye twitched, and he slammed the trunk of the car shut with far more strength than necessary. "Shut up, Kakarot," he muttered as Bulma came up next to them.

"I knew I was coming with two children, I didn't know I was coming with four," she told them, giving them both glares that could have killed.

"Aw, but it was fun!"

"Fun for all of YOU! Can we not forget that I'm only human and probably wouldn't survive a car wreck?"

"Woman, that's what the dragon balls are for."

"Mom, can we go get on the rides now?" Trunks excitedly interrupted, pointing in the direction of the enormous theme park. "Please? Please?"

"You two can go on ahead, but only if Goku goes with you," Bulma said, making eye contact with Goku. They both exchanged a smile, and Goku jogged up to both boys. He ruffled Goten's hair, and were soon lost in the crowd of people heading in.

"When are we leaving again?" Vegeta demanded, his nose twitching at just how many humans were around them. There were far too many children there for his taste.

Bulma smiled and hooked her arm into his. "Oh come on, you're going to have fun."

"Only if I can kill some humans," he grumbled.

She laughed, "Yeah, cause you saved them just to kill them. Right."

Vegeta grunted, conceding her point while allowing her to pull him along towards the hotel adjacent to the theme park. He glared at everyone who gave his shirt a second look, baring his teeth at them for good measure. Much to his dismay, however, his usual intimidation was cut short by his outfit.

Bulma checked them in, and after they dropped off their belongings in their rooms, she decided she wanted to tan and that she wanted him to join her. Vegeta grumbled to himself as they headed towards the hotel's outdoor pool, but he wasn't too opposed. The woman often tanned at home, and all it seemed to consist of was lying down and doing nothing in the sun. He could do that – lie down, relax, meditate-

Vegeta's thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt when Bulma started shedding her clothes as soon as they stepped outside, left in only her shades and her snug, blue bikini that left very little to the imagination.

"Woman, put your clothes back on!" the prince hissed, snatching up her shirt and trying to cover her with it.

"Vegeta, if we're gonna tan, the clothes need to come off! No one tans with clothes on, see?" she explained, gesturing around them. Vegeta looked, and sure enough, there was a large pool with many humans both in the water and laying in lounge chairs around it. The men and women were all scantily dressed, in his opinion.

"Ridiculous human customs," he mumbled under his breath. He started removing his own shirt, angrily kicking off his flip flops. Bulma lowered her shades at him, looking his body over in appreciation. The prince didn't notice as he threw his visor aside, left only in his swimming trunks. "Leaving yourselves so exposed in public to an attack. It's a miracle you all weren't already exterminated before we even landed on this planet."

Bulma smirked, pushing her shades back up. "You ought to thank your lucky stars that it didn't happen, because then you would've never met _me._ "

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "That would not have been a bad thing."

"Watch it, buddy, or you're sleeping on the floor tonight."

"Whatever."

"Come on, let's find some lounge chairs before they're all taken up," she told him, taking his hand in hers. He sighed in defeat, following after her. Vegeta scowled when they stopped walking and Bulma sat down on a lounge chair by the pool.

"So what are you going to do now?" he sneered. "Lay here for the rest of the day like a lazy human?"

"Excuse you, I'm going to lay here and become even more gorgeous than I already am," she scoffed, and for the first time, he noticed her bottle of lotion in her free hand. She gave him a flirtatious smile, teasing him with the bottle. "Will you spread this on me, hon?"

"I am not your slave, female. Do it yourself."

Bulma's smile disappeared, and she glared at him from behind her glasses. "Such a jerk," she muttered, shaking her head. "Could've married someone nice, but nooo…"

Vegeta was ignoring her, scanning over the humans around the pool, and his scowl worsened. He shifted his gaze back to his wife, who was spreading the lotion on her arm.

"There is no other seat available for me," he informed her. "You took the last one."

"Get in the pool then."

"With those other humans? Not likely."

"Why don't you go find Goku and the boys then, and go on some fun water rides with them," Bulma suggested, barely able to keep a straight face.

"Oh yes, that would be _loads_ of fun, why don't I drown myself too while I'm at it?" Vegeta deadpanned.

"Well, don't do that. The other guests wouldn't like it too much," she laughed.

"The other guests…" he muttered, frowning in thought. He looked over at the humans on either side of Bulma, and went over to the man on her right. The man was extremely obese and only in a small, snug speedo. Vegeta's eye twitched as he walked over to the human. The man was lying on his lounge chair, tanning, and looked to be asleep.

Without warning, Vegeta reached down, grabbed the bottom of the lounge chair, and swung it up off the ground. The man screamed as he was launched into the air, spinning head over heels and landing right in the pool with a huge splash. Everyone looked over at Vegeta in shock, but quickly averted their eyes when they saw the death warning in his eyes. Satisfied, the prince lowered the lounge chair and then reclined back onto it.

"Smooth," Bulma muttered, rolling her eyes. "We'll probably never be invited back here after we leave."

Vegeta grunted, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. "Good."

She grumbled something about not being able to take him anywhere, but soon focused on acquiring herself a nice tan. Vegeta heard when she laid back to soak up the sun, and though he wondered why they couldn't have just done this back home, he said nothing more.

Whenever he laid down outside, it was usually late at night under the light of the stars. It really _was_ relaxing, even with the other humans there, to just lay back and enjoy the warmth of the sun instead. The heat reminded him of Nappa and Raditz, the way they both would relish intense heat whenever they came across it in their purges. They always said it reminded them of their home planet, but he couldn't remember enough to agree or disagree with them.

Not that it mattered now. The sun and the heat on his new planet were just fine in his opinion.

He must've dozed off, because the next thing he knew, water was hitting him right in the face. Vegeta abruptly sat up, and then was splashed again, this time enough to get drenched. He growled and shook his head rapidly, glaring at the two boys in the pool who were giving him impish grins. Bulma was in the water with them, laughing.

"I tried stopping them, you know," Bulma teased him. Vegeta rolled his eyes, wiping the water off his face.

" _Sure_ you did."

"Come in the water, Dad!" Trunks yelled, holding up a beach ball with both hands while he paddled in the water. He threw the beach ball with frightening velocity right at Goten, who easily snatched it up out the air.

"Yeah, Vegeta! Jump in, the water looks great!"

Everyone looked over at Goku, who was standing on the spring board. Vegeta cringed, looking away from the other full-blooded Saiyan, who was standing naked as the day he was born.

"Damn it, Kakarot, put some clothes on, imbecile!" he shouted, right before Goku jumped up into the air and pulled himself up into a cannon ball.

Vegeta's words were barely out when he and the humans near him were all drenched by the huge splash Goku made. He shot up to his feet, growling and dripping wet. Without a word of warning, the Saiyan dove into the water, taking a swing right at Goku's laughing face. Goten got involved before he could connect though, tackling the prince from the side and submerging them both into the water. Trunks jumped right in to help his dad as all four of them suddenly started brawling in the water, which quickly had everyone with human blood vacating the pool – Bulma included.

"Saiyans," she sighed, shaking her head while wrapping a towel around herself moments later. She gladly took a glass of sparkling lemonade from a server that walked by, before turning her attention back towards the pool. Unfortunately, the four could quite literally fight for the rest of the day – but she knew how to make sure that didn't happen.

"Hey boys, it's just about lunch time!"

That did the trick.

Twenty minutes later, Bulma was watching in amazement as the four scarfed down everything that was laid in front of them. She left the chefs a nice tip, because they were working themselves to the bone to keep up with four starving males with Saiyan blood. They were still outside at an outdoor table, though Goku was now permanently borrowing one of Vegeta's pairs of black swimming trunks (there was no way Vegeta would _ever_ wear them again).

"This place is awesome!" Trunks declared, once his eating finally slowed down. "We gotta go back to the park and get on more of the rides!"

"But we can't get on the _really cool_ rides," Goten whined, frowning in disappointment. "They say we're not tall enough."

"Deliver one blow to the solar plexus of the fool who told you that, and they'll let you on the blasted thing," Vegeta gruffly told them, making Goku laugh and making Bulma hit him on the shoulder. His eyes shifted to his wife as he scowled. "What? It's true."

"Don't listen to him. Always play by the rules, boys," Bulma warned.

"Aw, but that's no fun, Mom," Trunks sighed. Vegeta smirked a little, raising his glass for a drink while Bulma gave her son a glare that could have killed. Trunks gulped and nodded, correcting himself instantly. "I mean—you're right, Mom."

"Of course I am," Bulma smugly said. "Your mother is always right, Trunks. The sooner you accept this, the better the rest of your life will be."

Vegeta lowered his glass, rolling his eyes, but unable to deny how content he felt. It was warm out, he'd caught a short nap, his stomach was full, and his adrenaline from the brief sporting brawl was gone, leaving him feeling satisfied. The only annoyance now was that his skin was itching though from the water in the pool, and he was craving a shower. He'd remedy that in a moment.

"There's a photo place, can we all go and take pictures before we leave, please?" Trunks asked excitedly.

"I think that'd be fun," Bulma agreed.

Goku patted Goten on the back. "That sounds great. I need to be in some more pictures around the house, I think."

"I think so too," Goten quietly said with a smile.

"You'll come too, won't you, Dad?" Trunks asked, shifting his attention to his father.

Vegeta looked back at his son for a few seconds, scowled, and gave a conceding nod. He then stood up and walked back into the hotel without a word, making sure to collect his clothes along the way. Everyone was quite used to the prince's abrupt departures, and no one batted an eye as the boys continued making plans for what they wanted to see and do over the weekend.

Some time later, Bulma finally went back to the hotel room she'd gotten just for her and her husband. Vegeta was standing by the window when she walked in, freshly showered and slipping on his blue shirt with pink flowers. He glanced at her over his shoulder while adjusting his shirt, and then went back to looking out the window.

"Was the water bothering you?" she knowingly asked.

Vegeta frowned over how well she knew him. "Nothing bothers me, foolish woman."

"Good, then you'll come with us to take these pictures then."

The prince didn't respond. He would have preferred not to; pictures always made him uncomfortable. He had already told Trunks he would go though, and he never broke his word to his son. Remaining silent, Vegeta considered the view of the theme park, instinctively picking up where Trunks and Goten were. Despite his initial opposition, he was glad Goku had come with them after all. Better the younger Saiyan chasing after the boys than him.

Bulma was humming behind him, a habit she only did when she was relaxed. She was going through their capsulized luggage, wondering what new outfit she should wear for the rest of the day, but Vegeta kept getting her attention. The sight of him in that shirt that he'd fought so hard against wearing that morning made her smile. She knew how much he hated gatherings where he had to mingle with the general public.

He wasn't there for himself; he was there for them.

Vegeta didn't react when Bulma wrapped her arms around him from behind, gently hugging him around his waist. She kissed him right by his ear. "I'm really glad you're here with us, Vegeta."

"Hn."

"I like you in this shirt, you know. Makes you look sexy," she whispered in his ear.

Vegeta smirked, recognizing that tone in her voice. "Is that right?"

"Mhmm, you fell asleep so you didn't see the looks you were getting by the pool."

"I wasn't wearing this by the pool."

"Oh yeah," Bulma breathed, moving her hand inside his open shirt and over his rock-hard abs. "Maybe we should take it off then."

"Bulma," he growled in warning as she pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside. "Don't start something you don't intend to finish."

"The boys are busy dragging Goku along for every ride in the park. Besides. They're not the only ones allowed to have fun on our vacation."

"I suppose you have a point there," Vegeta conceded, turning away from the window to finally face his wife. Any additional words on his tongue were lost as Bulma's bikini top landed just over his shirt on the floor.

"I always have a point," she smugly told him while Vegeta openly admired her body. His dark eyes finally settled on her breasts, his breathing becoming quicker. For all intents and purposes, the Saiyan in front of her looked poised to attack any second now. Bulma licked her lips in anticipation. There was always something primal about her husband whenever he got aroused that made every time a rush, like she was bringing danger itself into her bed.

It was a good thing she had never shied away from danger.

"Well?" Bulma flirtatiously asked, settling her hands on her waist. Vegeta's eyes shot up to hers. "You just going to stare at me or what? I don't have all day, you know."

Bulma never even saw him move before she was flat on her back on their bed. Her husband was right on top of her, keeping her hands pinned over her head.

"Watch what you ask for, female," he growled.

His lips hovered over her mouth before he moved his head down her to her neck, then to her chest, like a starving man who couldn't decide where to begin at a feast. Bulma shivered at the feel of his hot breath over her bare skin, struggling at his grip so he would release her. Vegeta did, putting his hand to better use as he cupped a breast while he ravished it with his tongue. Bulma whimpered and slid a hand into his dark hair, getting a good grip in a silent plea not to stop.

Mere seconds later, Goku suddenly teleported in, right next to their bed.

"Hey guys, the boys and I…" Goku brightly started, before blinking at what he was seeing.

"Goku!" Bulma shrieked and practically threw a startled Vegeta off the bed completely. The prince quickly recovered, and then instinctively grabbed the blankets on the bed, hauling them over his wife's chest. He wrapped his arm across her for good measure while he glared at the red-faced Saiyan in the room with them.

"Damn it, Kakarot!" Vegeta screamed at him. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking, you idiot!"

"Ah, I'm sorry, Vegeta," Goku awkwardly chuckled, scratching at the back of his head. "I just wanted to ask you guys if you wanted some ice cream, cause Trunks and Goten want to buy some-"

"Goku," Bulma groaned, one hand covering her eyes as she thanked the heavens that he hadn't teleported in with the boys. "Please, _please_ don't ever teleport in if I'm alone with my husband."

"Well, gee, guys, I dunno why you're both so embarrassed," Goku mused aloud, shrugging carelessly before grinning. "I mean, I know what Vegeta's got because he's a guy, and I've already seen everything you've got, Bulma."

Vegeta momentarily lost all ability to think, stunned by the revelation. "What?" he asked, narrowing his eyes dangerously. " _What_ did you just say?" he snarled.

"Oh yeah, back when we were kids," Goku laughed. "I've seen everything Bulma has, and she's seen me naked a buncha times-"

His words were promptly silenced by Vegeta's fist smashing right into his face. Goku yelped in surprise, stumbling backwards, but he had no time to do much else before an irate Super Saiyan prince was suddenly tackling him right through the wall. Both of them flew outside and crashed into the ground, causing an explosion of concrete and screaming from frightened people that had been mingling outside. When the dust cleared, Vegeta was mounting Goku and strangling him.

"You touched my woman and neither of you ever told me? I'm going to END you, Kakarot!" Vegeta screamed in his face. Goku struggled for a few moments to break free, but when he couldn't do it in his base form, he finally ascended and forced Vegeta to let him go. Both of them got back up to their feet quickly, with Vegeta practically seething. At the sight of the prince's very real anger, Goku raised both hands up in innocence.

"Vegeta, it wasn't like that," Goku calmly told the prince, offering him a hesitant smile. "It was innocent, we were just kids. I've never done anything with Bulma, we're just friends. Honest."

Vegeta's fists were still slightly raised and clenched, his body squared for a fight. His lip twitched at Goku's words, but he knew it was the truth. Goku was many things, but he was no liar. His shoulders relaxed, his rage dwindling but not extinguishing completely. By the time Bulma finally threw a shirt on and got there, Vegeta had lowered his fists, though he was still irritated.

He cast Bulma a glance as she ran over to them, but he turned around and walked off to clear his mind before she could get to him. Best he calm down, so he wouldn't say things to her that he would regret.

"Hey, is everything okay?" Bulma breathlessly asked Goku when she got to him. She looked after her retreating husband, and then looked up to the enormous hole in the wall of the nice hotel. "Well, that's gonna cost a nice penny to fix up."

"I bet."

"Did you clear everything up with Vegeta? Do I need to go after him?"

"I told him you and I haven't, you know," Goku chuckled awkwardly. He looked towards his friend, prodding him gently through their mental bond. "He's calmed down, but I think it's probably best if we let him cool off a little more."

"I think you're right," Bulma relented. "I'll clear up everything here with the hotel for now. Where are the boys?"

"Eating ice cream by the Sliding Eel ride, I think it's called. They want to take pictures soon."

"Oh, right. We'll do that after I'm done here."

Goku blinked. "Uh, but don't you wanna wait for Vegeta?"

"Trust me." She winked, heading back into the hotel.

A couple hours later, after signing a nice check over to the hotel, enjoying some ice cream, and watching the boys get on some enormous water rides, the group made their way over to "Polar Photos" where they could take strips of photographs together for memories. Trunks and Goten were both wearing shades at this point with matching "Magic Ice" shirts. Their swimming trunks and flip flops didn't slow them down at all as they charged over to Polar Photos, eagerly getting in line.

Goten looked over at his father when Bulma and Goku finally caught up. "Hey Dad, after me and Trunks take some pictures, can me and you take some too?"

Goku smiled. "Sure, that'd be great."

Meanwhile, Trunks was looking around for his own father. He frowned, trying to sense Vegeta's ki signature, but he couldn't get anything back. He worriedly noticed that they were nearing the front of the line, but Vegeta was nowhere in sight.

"Mom?" Trunks turned to Bulma. "Did Dad leave?"

"No, of course not," she assured him. "He's just taking a breather. You know your father."

"Oh," Trunks softly said, looking confused. "It's weird though, I can't sense him."

"Shows you still have a lot to learn, boy," Vegeta's gruff voice cut in, drawing everyone's attention. He was dressed in jeans and a simple black tank top Bulma had packed for him, his hands in his pockets while he came up to them.

"Dad, you made it!"

"Told you I would, didn't I?" Vegeta sneered, but Trunks was unfazed, looking ahead with a smile. The prince looked ahead as well, crossing his arms and avoiding looking at Bulma or Goku while his fingers impatiently drummed against his bicep.

"Made it right on time, Vegeta!" Goku added with a smile. The prince just rolled his eyes, remaining silent.

Finally, the group made it to the front, and were ushered inside. There were several enormous dark booths to go into, and the boys immediately ran over to the first one, both of them arguing over the funny poses they were going to make. Bulma looked over at her husband, poking him in the ribs.

"Want to take some pictures with me, Vegeta?" she sweetly asked him. He shrugged with indifference, sighing as she grabbed onto his wrist and led him over to another dark booth.

Vegeta scowled as he was forced to sit on a small seat inside of what looked like an enormous box of some kind. There was a monitor screen in front of him, flashing different prices for different pictures. He grunted as Bulma sat on his lap, making herself comfortable. She leaned forward, picking how many pictures she wanted.

"So?"

"So _what_ , female?" he snapped harshly, his earlier irritation returning. "Pick whatever the hell you want."

"You know that's not what I want to talk about," Bulma sighed. She shifted over enough on his lap so that she could see him in the dim light, but Vegeta was glaring away from her. She put her arms around his neck, leaning in close to whisper to him. "Vegeta, sweetheart, come on. Don't be mad. I've told you that before you, it was only Yamcha. You've known this for years."

Vegeta turned his head a little towards her, frowning as he collected his thoughts. "You should have told me, even if nothing did happen between you and Kakarot," he finally said. "I'm your husband. I think I deserve to know just which of your idiot friends have seen you naked."

Bulma reached over and scrolled through the backgrounds, picking a waterfall. She leaned back with her husband as the machine started loading up.

"Fair enough," she conceded, before flashing the camera a dazzling smile as she hugged him. "Smile, Vegeta."

"Hn," he grunted, glaring at the camera as the picture was snapped.

"But in my defense," Bulma continued, looking back at him. This time, he made eye contact with her. "I've tried tons of times to tell you about those days, but you never cared to hear it. And of all things, those few times weren't even that big a deal, I don't ever think about it. I didn't think it would upset you that much."

Vegeta stayed silent for a few moments, lowering his gaze to the floor. "The thought was just infuriating," he bitterly admitted. "I'm second to him in enough things as it is, and for a second, I thought…it doesn't matter. If you both say nothing happened, then nothing happened, so forget it. Are we done here yet?" he impatiently demanded.

"No, we're not done. We still have three more pictures to take," she said, leaning in close to him. She nuzzled her nose behind his ear, making him close his eyes right before the next picture was taken. "You're second to no one, Vegeta. Don't ever think that."

"Hn," he grunted with indifference, even as he finally relaxed.

"So, am I going to get a smile out of you for one of these pictures?" Bulma coaxed, bringing one hand down to rub his chest a little.

"No," he scoffed.

"But you have such a handsome smile."

"Too bad."

"Not even for your wife who you love so much?"

Vegeta let out a disgusted snort. "Woman, I couldn't care less about you."

Bulma growled, trying to hit him in the head. Vegeta couldn't help his genuine laughter as he easily blocked the shot, right as the next picture was taken. He promptly ended her struggles when he pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss, telling her everything he had to say without words. Bulma put her arms around him, eagerly reciprocating.

Neither of them noticed the last picture being taken, but it wound up being their best.


	4. A Year Later

Most people were lazy and bummed around on their first day off in months. Bulma Briefs, however, was not most people.

She had her entire day planned right down to the minute, showing the efficiency that had everyone speculating that she would soon step up and take over as the new president of Capsule Corp. Bulma needed it too, because her task for the day wasn't to run the most successful company on the planet – it was to throw a spectacular engagement party for Gohan and Videl.

The young couple had only gotten engaged several weeks prior, but with Videl and her high profile father, the media had already caught wind of the engagement and were running the story into the ground. Out of the whole group, only Bulma and Hercule were equipped to handle the media blitz. And between the two of them, it was obvious to Bulma who was capable of throwing the more kickass party. If there was one thing she could do well, it was plan a damn good party. Now the day had finally arrived, and she had a million and one things to do to give Gohan and Videl an evening they would always remember.

But before she got down to business, she had to start her day right, the best way she knew how.

Vegeta's breath was hot against her skin, his face against the side of her neck where her smell was the strongest and most intoxicating. Bulma was panting as she ran one hand down his hot, sweaty back until her fingers ran into the lazy tangle of sheets at his waist that they were still wrapped up in.

Their sex at night was always good, but first thing in the morning, before sleep had fully left them, was her favorite time to enjoy her prince. His guard was always lowered, his touch more tender, his pace slower. Words weren't needed during mornings like this one, not when everything that could ever be said between them was communicated through heat and touch.

Bulma pushed the sheets as far down as she could to expose as much of his skin as she could, clutching him closer to her, her nails digging into his lower back. Shuddering, Vegeta moved his forehead against her bare shoulder as he braced both hands on the mattress on either side of her head. His hips stilled with him deep inside her, his arms flexed rigidly with tension, only the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the room. It was then that Bulma realized how close her fingers were to the small stub on his lower back where his tail used to be.

She moved her fingers closer, massaging him right around the stub, making Vegeta's jaw go slack from the stimulation as he shuddered again. He closed his eyes, and after a few seconds of her touch, he resumed a slow rhythm. But when Bulma increased the pressure her fingers were applying, he grunted and started picking up the pace.

He snarled in surprise when she grabbed a fistful of his damp hair with her free hand, roughly yanking his head back up for a heated kiss. Vegeta immediately reached up and grasped her wrist, pinning her hand down on the mattress over her head, though he did nothing to remove the fingers still on his lower back. Bulma realized this in surprise; normally he would've taken both her hands off him by now and resumed complete control. She smiled a little into their kiss and put pressure around his stub with her nails while she drew in his lower lip between her teeth, her panting mixing with his.

Her nails introduced a flash of pain and blinding pleasure, and that was as far as he lasted. His whole body jerked and then tensed as he groaned in ecstasy against her lips. Finally, the prince went limp on top of her, exhausted, panting, and very satiated.

Bulma smiled in triumph as she gently ran a hand through his hair. In all their years together, she could count on one hand the amount of times she'd made Vegeta finish first. To crack a man with his endurance and self-control was always an achievement, and the rare moments always seemed to happen in the morning. Another reason why it was her favorite time.

The bright light of the sun was peeking in around their curtains, an unfortunate reminder that she couldn't stay in bed with her husband all day, no matter how much she wanted to. She snuck a look over at the time, and was pleasantly surprised. Not only were they still on schedule, but she still had twenty minutes to spare before she was scheduled for a quick shower. More than enough time to get hers.

Not wasting another second, Bulma pushed back against the prince on top of her. Still in a haze, Vegeta rolled off his wife, sprawling out on his back with a weak grunt. She followed his movement, sitting up and straddling his waist, making the Saiyan beneath her groan.

"Woman, don't you have a thousand things to do today," Vegeta mumbled, eyes half lidded as he gazed up at her.

"I do," she confirmed, playfully walking two fingers from his stomach, slowly up to his chest, relishing in the heat his body was giving off. "But a girl's gotta start her day right. Just cause you can't keep up with me this morning doesn't mean you get to leave me hanging."

His eyes focused, his glare hard. "Don't get things mistaken, female. Just because I let you have your fun doesn't mean you can keep up with me."

"Blah, blah, _blah,_ " she drawled, purposely leaning over him so that her bare breasts were right in his face. Vegeta's eyes darkened. "You're all talk this morning, and no action-"

The word had barely left her lips before she abruptly found herself pinned face down on the mattress, with Vegeta's heat trapping her from behind. A bright golden light exploded in the room, only his impressive discipline keeping the ki from burning her skin raw. Bulma's heart was racing as she felt the heat of his transformation behind her. Twenty minutes? With her husband ascended, she wouldn't last two.

"Best cancel your schedule, woman," Vegeta whispered in her ear, his breath heavy again and giving her chills. "You're not going anywh-"

He stopped and turned his attention to the side as Bulma's cell phone started ringing on the night stand right next to them. Bulma recognized the ring tone and buried her face against the mattress, whimpering in defeat.

"Goddamnit," she groaned.

"Forget it," Vegeta breathed, his lips already on the skin of her back.

"I can't, I have to take it, it might be important."

He growled in frustration, "Just call them back-"

"That ringer is for Trunks' school, Vegeta," she explained in exasperation. The prince scowled and leaned up enough to let her move. Bulma reached out and grabbed the phone, instantly answering it.

"Hello?...yes, this is she," she said, as Vegeta sighed behind her. He rolled off her again, laying on his side and observing his wife, hoping this was just a quick interruption and they could resume where they left off soon. But when Bulma turned around and sat up, yelling, "He did WHAT?" – Vegeta knew that no one's plans were going to be followed that day.

He laid back down on his back, rubbing his forehead as his eyes and hair darkened again. "Yes, we'll be there soon," Bulma sighed, before hanging up, tossing the phone back on the bed and getting up.

"Now what did the idiot boy do?" Vegeta grumbled, watching as his wife started gathering up her things to get ready.

"I'll tell you what _your son_ did," Bulma snapped, angrily disappearing into their closet to pick her outfit for the day. "He went and got himself into a fight at school, and now he's been suspended for a week!"

"Suspended?" Vegeta asked, raising an eyebrow. "Like from the ceiling?"

Bulma walked back out of her closet a moment later, arm filled with clothes. She fixed her husband with an incredulous stare, wondering if he was being sarcastic. At the genuine confusion on his face, her features softened.

"No, hon. He's not physically being suspended from anything. It just means he's not allowed to go back to school for a week, as punishment."

The confusion in his eyes disappeared, quickly replaced by irritation. "Why are they punishing him? Shouldn't they leave that task to us?"

Bulma sighed, heading over to the bathroom. "Look, we can talk about it more on the way there. I need to take a shower and so do you, and then we need to go pick up Trunks because they want to talk to us both, and then I have a lot of other things-"

"Who the hell said I was going?" Vegeta scoffed, sitting up. He slowly rotated his neck while he stretched his arms. "You handle it. You're his mother."

Bulma whirled around, lifting one finger up in warning. "DON'T start, Vegeta. Our 9-year-old kid just got suspended from school, and now my plans for the morning just got killed to go deal with his principal and teachers, and on top of that, I didn't even get my freakin' orgasm, okay? So you're coming with me, and that's final!"

" _Coming_ with you?" he playfully asked, flashing her a maddening smirk. Bulma blinked a few times, and then gave him a withering stare that would've made most men lose their spines. It only made her husband's smirk spread in amusement.

"I married a smartass," she muttered, going into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind her.

"Best thing you've ever done."

"You better shut up because I'm contemplating a divorce right now!" she shouted back, before he heard water running. Vegeta chuckled and got up, walking over to the bathroom door and letting himself in.

"Woman, please. No other male on this planet would put up with your shit like I do," he informed her, going over and opening the shower curtain. She turned to glare at him, scrubbing shampoo into her hair.

"Excuse me! Any man on this planet would kill for a dinner with me!" she shot back at him. Her lips pursed in frustration. "What are you doing? I thought you were going to take a shower after me. We don't have time to mess around, Vegeta. I've got-"

"Lots of things to do, a schedule to keep, I know," he deadpanned in disinterest, even while he hungrily took in her dripping wet body. "Precisely why we should shower together - to save time, of course."

"Uh huh. You're not fooling me, buddy. You're not here for a shower," Bulma knowingly said, though she had to admit, his persistence was flattering. But then again, she wondered with a sigh, who could blame him? She _was_ gorgeous and completely irresistible-

"Well?" he demanded, bringing her back to the present.

There was only a brief moment of deliberation, before she reached out and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him into the shower. Vegeta yanked the curtain closed behind them, and then instantly backed his wife against the tiled wall. Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, the heat in the shower suddenly spiraling.

"Make it fast," she whispered against his smirking lips. "And you BETTER deliver this time, jerk."

Taking her words as a direct challenge, deliver he did.

Even though he had an excellent start to his morning and had been in a relatively good mood during breakfast, that good mood all but vanished when he stepped foot in his son's school less than an hour later. It was only the second time he'd ever been in the building, the first time being when his son "graduated" from Kindergarten, a ridiculous tradition that had Bulma threatening to castrate him if he dared miss. After another mother's infant vomited on his shirt while they sat in the audience that day, the prince swore he was never coming again.

And yet here he was. Back in hell, which reeked of chalk, crayons, and dirty children. Vegeta's nose twitched in agitation as he followed his wife to a small, empty office.

"Please wait here Mr. and Mrs. Briefs, the principal will be with you shortly," a chirpy young secretary said, beaming as she stepped aside to let the couple through. Bulma politely thanked her, but Vegeta ignored her entirely, less he kill her on the spot.

"Hopefully this doesn't take long," Bulma sighed, checking her cell phone for the time while she took a seat. Vegeta sat down in silence next to her, arms crossed firmly over his chest while he glared straight ahead. Bulma looked over at him and rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You know, I actually have things to do today for Gohan and Videl, and all you're missing is your early morning training session, so quit your sulking already."

"I am _not_ sulking," Vegeta growled, glare fixed on the window behind the principal's desk. "Neither of us should be here, as far as I'm concerned. The boy didn't kill anyone, so I fail to see what the problem is."

"The _issue_ is that YOUR son-"

Vegeta scoffed, "Oh, so now he's only MY son, is he?"

"Well he sure as hell doesn't get that supernatural strength from me!"

"Thank goodness for that, the boy has inherited more than enough from you, nothing good might I add."

"Yeah? Well clearly, he didn't inherit his common sense from me, or we wouldn't be here, now would we?" Bulma snapped, poking her husband hard in the arm. "You keep teaching him to punch first and ask questions later, and we're going to be doing this for a long time, buddy."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "There is nothing wrong with defending yourself if need be. It's not our son's fault that all these human children are weaklings-"

"Mr. and Mrs. Briefs, thank you both for coming, I apologize for the wait," a flustered, balding middle aged man in a worn suit announced as he hurried into the room.

"Apology _not_ accepted," Vegeta sneered, earning an uncomfortable look from the principal as he sat down. There were numerous urban legends about the mean-looking man married to the most powerful woman on the planet, none of which were good. Sitting across from the man now, the principal now fully understood (and believed) a good deal of those legends. He gulped a little and pushed up his glasses as Bulma elbowed Vegeta in the arm, shooting him a warning look.

"Don't mind my husband, Mr. Banks," Bulma smoothly said, breaking the tension in the room. Vegeta reclined back and stared off to the side away from both of them. "We just had a busy day planned. I'm sure you've heard about Videl and Gohan's engagement party tonight? Well, I am running the logistics for it, and it's going to be an amazing party," Bulma smugly announced, making her husband lean his head back and inwardly groan. "Of course, I would've preferred planning it for a Saturday night, but a Friday night is just as good, don't you think? Besides, it's the only time when-"

"Quit your pathetic rambling already, woman!" Vegeta snapped, startling the principal half to death. "No one here cares-"

Bulma whirled on her husband, "Excuse you, you jerk! I was just explaining how busy our day is!"

"Right, of course." Mr. Banks cleared his throat, shuffling through the mess of papers on his desk. "We're all quite busy, so let's keep this brief…um, no pun intended," he said with a forced chuckle. Neither Bulma nor Vegeta looked amused, however, making Mr. Banks' cheeks flush red. "Apologies," he sheepishly added, taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts while he organized some paperwork on his desk.

"Let's get to the real reason why you were both called in today. Earlier today, your son got into quite the physical altercation during recess with a boy a grade below him. It's not clear which of the two boys started the fight, but they are both being suspended for a week."

"Who finished the fight?" Vegeta demanded. "Better have been Trunks, or we are disowning the boy-"

"Vegeta, would you quit it?"

"Woman, it is a legitimate question."

Mr. Banks wiped some sweat off his brow, silently musing to himself that he wasn't paid enough for this. "Well, sir, the boys didn't stop fighting until one of the teachers threatened to call their parents."

"The other boy wasn't badly hurt, was he?" Bulma anxiously asked. "We'll cover any medical expenses he might need-"

"No, both boys seem to be fine. They're both waiting to be picked up by their parents."

Vegeta looked off to the side for a moment, easily picking up on his son sitting in another office. It didn't take him long to pick up on the other boy either, but once he did, he couldn't say he was surprised. The prince exhaled through his nose in frustration, unsure which boy he wanted to kill first for ruining his morning.

"Goten," he grumbled to his wife, much to the shock of the principal in front of them.

"Goten? Trunks got into a fight with Goten?" Bulma exclaimed, turning around as though the boys had walked in. When she didn't see anyone, she turned back to her husband. "But they're best friends, they'd never-"

"Never what? Fight? They're boys," Vegeta countered gruffly, leaving the important words unsaid: they were boys with Saiyan blood. How many times had he himself picked a fight just for the fun of it when he was their age? Though admittedly, those fights had always ended much differently.

"Look, Mr. Banks. I'm very sorry about Trunks' behavior, and if there was any property damage, we'll handle it. We'll also be sure to have a talk with Trunks to make sure this doesn't happen again," Bulma stated, making her husband roll his eyes. "That said, don't you think a one-week suspension is a bit extreme?"

Mr. Banks pushed up his glasses, readying himself. Parents never took this well, but the two in front of him were not the typical parents he was used to dealing with. "No, it's a standard punishment for anyone involved in a fight-"

" _Punishment?_ " Vegeta slowly echoed, his eyes narrowed and hard. To the principal's credit, he didn't break eye contact, though he did start to break into a cold sweat. "You're punishing my son by letting him stay home, which is what the boy would rather do than come to this pathetic institution anyways? On what planet does this shit make sense?"

The principal gawked, flabbergasted and at a complete loss for words. Bulma sucked at her teeth, before calmly turning to the Saiyan next to her.

"Vegeta-"

The prince abruptly stood up, turning on his heel and leaving the office altogether before his wife could get his whole name out. Just when he thought he was starting to understand human culture, something like this happened that made no sense at all. He imagined himself at Trunks' age, being "suspended" by Frieza from his Galactic Army for picking a fight that resulted in no casualties, and nearly snorted from the absurdity of it. His son was a decent kid, he hadn't killed anyone, so he failed to see the point of any of this.

Vegeta stepped outside of the office area, into a deserted corridor painted a dull yellow, with crude drawings taped up over the walls between classroom doors. He looked down and to his left, where a nine-year-old lavender-haired boy was sitting on a folding chair, arms crossed firmly over his chest, a scowl firmly on his face. Vegeta looked over to the right, where another half-Saiyan boy was sitting on the other side of the door, pose and expression matching Trunks perfectly. Vegeta exhaled through his nose.

"You're both idiots," he gruffly announced, moving his gaze from Goten to Trunks. "And now both of your mothers are going to be even more insane than usual as they finish preparing for the party this evening, because of the time you've both cost them this morning."

"Tch," Trunks muttered under his breath. "Whatever."

Vegeta's eyes darkened dangerously, and both boys briefly forgot their irritation with each other when they felt the prince's ki rise in anger. Even braced for it, Trunks couldn't move out of the way before Vegeta's strong hand was grasping the back of his neck, practically hauling him up out of his chair. Goten gulped, but he wisely remained seated; he had enough to deal with when Chi-Chi arrived to pick him up, and didn't need Vegeta's anger added on top of that.

"Let me go, Dad! What are you doing?" Trunks cried angrily as Vegeta forced him towards the exit. He tried to shrug out of his father's painful grip on the back of his neck, but the only way to break the hold was to ascend. And with the way his father's ki was practically simmering, he didn't dare do it.

Finally, Vegeta shoved a metal door open and practically threw his son outside. Trunks regained his balance before he could fall on the concrete, and whirled around to face his father, equally angry and his hands balled up into fists.

"You better watch how you talk to me, boy. I'm not Goten," Vegeta growled as he stepped outside. He paused when he noticed the tense stance his son was in, and then raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Oh, you want to fight me now too, do you? We can, if you'd like, but know this, Trunks. If you want to fight me like a man, be prepared to be treated like one, because I will not hold back."

Trunks' nose twitched a bit, but he knew that his father was no liar. It would be better not to test him, lest he not live to see his tenth birthday. After all, no matter how angry he got, he knew that Vegeta could always get angrier. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, the boy relaxed his stance as he calmed down. Turning slightly away from Vegeta, Trunks brushed at his nose, unable to hide the wince when he did. Goten had landed a good, hard punch square to his face, and he was still feeling it.

Trunks flinched when he felt his father's hand on him, this time cupping his chin. He gulped as Vegeta forced his head back, but while it wasn't exactly a gentle touch, it wasn't the hard grip his father had used moments ago, and he finally started to relax.

"Hn," the prince grunted, forcing his son's head to the side while he examined him. "Nothing broken, it seems. Nose will be bruised in an hour or so. Your mother will _love_ that," he sneered, releasing Trunks and crossing his arms over his chest. "Now are you going to tell me what happened, or would you rather tell your mother?"

Trunks cringed. Neither option was good. He brushed his bangs out of his face, and then turned slightly away from Vegeta as he dwelled on the fight he'd gotten into that morning and what triggered the whole thing. He shook his head and went to speak, but he never got the chance before a shriek cut through the air.

" _Trunks Briefs!"_ Bulma yelled, startling both her husband and her son. They both looked over as Bulma stalked up to both of them, and she was not in a good mood. Trunks shrank back a bit, suddenly wishing he'd taken Vegeta on instead as Bulma stood in front of him, her hands on her waist. "What in the world has gotten into you, young man? Did you forget our conversation last year about you not picking fights in school?"

"Welllllll…" Trunks drawled, closing his eyes and forcing a wide smile for his mother while he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "You said not to fight with the other human kids, and I didn't, Mom. I fought with _Goten,_ and he's not human, he's half – OW!" he hollered when Bulma smacked him in the back of the head, immediately clutching his head as though mortally wounded, much to Vegeta's immense disappointment.

"I _know_ what Goten is, thank you _very_ much! You're suspended for a week now, a whole week! What were you thinking?" Bulma demanded. Trunks rubbed his head, frowning when he replayed that morning's events and what had set him off. "Well?" Bulma prompted him when he remained silent. "What happened?"

"Ah, it's nothing," Trunks dismissively replied, turning away and wearing a look on his face that Bulma recognized all too well. That was a look of pure stubbornness and brooding anger that the boy had not inherited from her side. Bulma looked over at her husband, who scowled at the look she gave him.

"What now?" Vegeta peevishly demanded.

"Like father, like freakin' son," Bulma mumbled, reaching into her purse and digging for her shades. "Look, I've got a lot I need to get done and things I still need to buy, so Trunks, you'll just have to come along."

"What?" Trunks whined; of all the punishments his parents could bestow on him, going with his mother on a shopping trip ranked among the worst. "But I don't want-"

"Save it, I don't even want to hear it," his mother interrupted as she put on her shades and started heading towards their hoverjet. "You sure aren't going to go home by yourself just to play video games until the party tonight, so you're coming with us, and that's final."

"Oh, so Dad's coming too?" Trunks asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

" _No." "Yes." –_ came the simultaneous answers from his parents. Bulma and Vegeta exchanged a glare, with the prince's lip curling up in disgust. "Woman, I did not agree to this."

"Um, yes you did, this morning in fact. Don't you remember?"

"I-" the prince paused, blinked, and then recalled the reason why they had spent longer than a few minutes in the shower that morning. She had made a request, and he had blindly accepted it in order to enjoy their passion for a while longer. His eyes darkened. "You did not tell me you were planning to go shopping _today_."

"I said to come shopping with me next time, and you said yes, and guess what? It's _next time_ now."

"Conniving female," he snarled.

"It's alright, you were distracted and not paying full attention. Who could blame you?" Bulma smugly asked, practically basking in her own beauty as she headed towards her hoverjet. "Come along, boys, we've got a lot to do."

"Do we have to go?" Trunks whispered to his father as they reluctantly followed.

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut, or I'll make sure you accompany your mother on every shopping trip until you're 30 years old," Vegeta growled back. Trunks' mouth immediately snapped shut; he would not tempt his luck with that one.

Still, it was hard not to whine. His mother had allocated two full hours to search for another gift for Gohan and Videl, and if there was an Olympic event for most stores visited in two hours, Bulma would've been a gold medalist. By the fourteenth store, Trunks was bored out of his mind. Not wanting to rock the boat when his parents didn't have him in their crosshairs anymore though, he didn't make a sound of complaint.

His father, however, had no such filter, and while he had accepted his fate (after all, that morning round in the shower was worth it), that didn't mean he couldn't offer his opinions during their little shopping trip. Which he did, readily and freely, much to Bulma's agitation.

"I don't understand how you've been planning this party for a two damn months, but you wait until the day of the actual party to decide on a gift," Vegeta snidely commented.

Bulma picked up a pair of intertwined, white gold based candlesticks that formed a heart. She rolled her eyes at her husband and sighed, "I _told_ you, I already have a gift, but I just wanted to take another look around to make sure I don't spot something better. After all, the gift is from us, so it needs to be good."

The prince scoffed. "What do you mean, the gift is from _us_?"

"Well, we're a family, so of course the gift is going to be from all of us."

"If you're going to give a gift, say it's from you and the boy. Don't put my name on any of this shit."

Bulma put down a porcelain vase covered with hearts to give her husband an irritated look. "Vegeta, if you keep being a jerk, you're going to sleep in one of the guest rooms for a whole month."

The prince dismissively waved off her words, "Calm yourself, woman. I meant that I already have a gift that I am planning to give Gohan specifically to commemorate the occasion."

His words alone would've made her pause, but accompanied with the smirk spreading over his face, Bulma could practically feel the gray hairs sprouting. Her blue eyes narrowed, but she never got the question out before her son spoke up.

"Hey Mom, can I have a little brother?"

The needle completely scratched off the record as both Vegeta and Bulma turned to look over at their son in shock. Bored to tears, Trunks had wandered a bit from his parents into the next section of the store they were in, a section specifically for parents who were expecting. He proudly showed his parents a small blue shirt for infants, with the lettering "I love my big brother!"

"Look, isn't this cool?" he gushed. "He can wear this, so everyone knows I'm the best big brother ever-"

"Trunks, honey," Bulma gently cut in, "It's a cute shirt, but put it back, please."

Trunks' shoulders fell as he lowered the shirt, giving his mother a pleading look. "But Dad said we could buy a baby, and I know we can afford it, so why can't we buy a boy so I can have a little brother?"

Bulma looked over at Vegeta in bewilderment, but her husband had suddenly found the ceiling design incredibly interesting. "What is he talking about?"

"Nothing, it was an exchange over a year ago before the tournament," the prince curtly responded, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. "Kakarot's harpy fed Goten that garbage about buying infants, and the information was passed on. I simply didn't deny it."

"You're going to have to have _the talk_ with him soon," Bulma informed him under her breath, making him scoff and drawing his direct eye contact.

"Woman, I don't think so. _You're_ going to have that talk with him, not me."

"That's not how this works, you're his father-"

"Helloooo?" Trunks loudly interrupted, waving his arms out and drawing his parents' attention again. Now standing right in front of them, he frowned and put both hands on his hips, reminding Vegeta that no matter how strong he would become, he would always be his mother's son. "Can we buy a little brother for me, or not?"

"That's not exactly how it works, sweetheart," Bulma explained, before giving him a knowing smile. "Besides, you have to make amends with the brother you already have before we talk about bringing a new one into the picture."

"But Goten isn't my brother, he's my fr- well, we aren't friends anymore," Trunks announced, defiantly looking away. He tried to look as indifferent as his father usually did, but he couldn't quite pull it off yet and wound up sulking instead. "I'm never talking to him, never again, not ever," he added for good measure, lest his parents not take him seriously.

"Okay," Bulma easily responded, making Trunks blink in shock.

"Okay?" the boy echoed, unable to hide his confusion. Where was the lecturing? Where was the effort to convince him that he was wrong? "That's it?"

"Well sure, if that's how you feel," Bulma explained, affectionately ruffling Trunks' lavender hair. "If you don't want to talk to Goten anymore, that's fine…but you're still not getting out of a good punishment for getting suspended from school. Now come on, I think we'll go check out the furniture store, maybe look over the loveseats!"

Trunks looked over at his father who seemed disinterested in their conversation, and then looked back at his mother, but Bulma was a woman on a mission and was already ushering both of her boys out to make good time. He waited a while, wondering if either of his parents would mention Goten again, but minutes slipped by and his name wasn't brought up again. The lack of lecturing on the whole issue confused him, but on the flip side, the acceptance of his wishes also made him feel good. It was nice to know that his parents, unconventional and weird as they were, had his back no matter what-

"Do you hear me calling you, boy?" Vegeta shouted.

Trunks blinked and looked up, seeing that his parents were already near the closest mall exit to their hoverjet. His father was effortlessly balancing an enormous, black leather loveseat on one hand, to the shock of everyone walking past, and Bulma was busy yelling at someone on her cell phone. Not wanting to be a hold up, Trunks sprinted over.

"So _that's_ a loveseat," Trunks commented as the three stepped out into the parking lot. "When I get married, will you guys buy me one too?"

"First you want a brother, now you want a wife and a loveseat. What next, boy? You want your own island?" Vegeta deadpanned, making Trunks' eyes widen in excitement.

"Oh man an island would be soooo COOL!" the boy shouted happily, earning a low growl of annoyance from his father.

"Vegeta, quit," Bulma said as she hung up, though she was smiling as she slipped her sunglasses back on. "Trunks, stop getting suspended and then we'll talk about buying islands for you. Now take the loveseat and capsulize it. There are spare capsules in the hoverjet. You can turn the jet on too, while you're at it."

"Alriiiight," Trunks sighed, shoulders slumping. Vegeta quickly flicked him over the loveseat with a jerk of his wrist, sending the loveseat flying towards his son at superhuman speed. Trunks had barely caught it when Bulma tossed him her keys too. It took a second for the boy to find his balance, before he sprinted off ahead of them.

"Surprised you didn't practically coerce the boy into making amends with Goten," Vegeta commented when his son was halfway across the parking lot.

"I wanted to," Bulma admitted, casually linking her arm with Vegeta's. The prince scowled in disapproval at the contact, his back stiffening a bit. He hated any kind of public affection, but he supposed this was tolerable as long as the woman didn't take it any further. Bulma noticed his discomfort, but ignored it as she continued, "But he had that look that you get sometimes, so I let it go."

Vegeta's scowl worsened. "The _look_ I get?"

"Yeah, that stubborn look where I know that nothing I say will matter because I can't change your mind. He had the same look, so I didn't push. He'll come around…just like you always have."

The prince grunted in disinterest, looking away and missing the smile Bulma was offering him. He felt her hold on his arm tighten as she got just a little closer to him while they continued walking together. Neither said anything else as they crossed the parking lot over to where their son was impatiently waiting for them, but Vegeta's posture had considerably relaxed by the time they got there.

Over the years, Bulma had learned just how much to push her husband; that's why after they had a hearty family lunch, she told Vegeta he could leave and come back later once the party had actually started. She correctly figured that letting the prince go home for a few hours to be alone and recharge would be the best thing for everyone involved, since the party was going to run late. Vegeta didn't utter a word of protest, turning around and leaving before the words were barely out of his wife's mouth.

Trunks wasn't so lucky; he was stuck helping his mother with all the details for the party of the century, but Vegeta wasn't inclined to save him from that fate. After all, the boy had to learn to take his punishments like a man.

The trip home would've been necessary for Vegeta either way, since he had to pick up his own personal engagement gift for the couple. He had the gift tucked in one of his pockets as he walked into the reception hall later that evening. The prince's nose instantly crinkled in disgust; there were _so many people_ there milling about, that he couldn't help but wonder how many of them actually knew Gohan and Videl personally. He certainly didn't recognize anyone.

He sighed and made his way through the dim-lit hall, trying to ignore the awful music that was playing overhead as he searched for the groom-to-be. The sooner he could give Gohan his gift, the sooner he could head towards the open bar-

Goku suddenly popped in out of nowhere, inches in front of the prince, startling the older Saiyan half to death. "Hey, Vegeta!" he cheerfully greeted.

"Goddamnit, Kakarot!" Vegeta hissed, trying to bring his blood pressure back down. He looked around, but no one seemed to notice Goku's sudden appearance. "How many times have I told you not to do that?"

"Not to do what?" Goku asked curiously, making the prince close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Where is your oldest spawn?" he finally demanded.

"Oh, Gohan? He's over there dancing with Videl, they're having a ton of fun! Hey, I bet you don't know how to dance, huh Vegeta?"

"Saiyans don't _dance._ "

"Well, that's not true! I can dance! Chi-Chi taught me…sorta."

"May the gods help us all," Vegeta mumbled in disgust, making Goku laugh.

"Hey! Did you hear about that fight Goten and Trunks got into?"

"I'm aware of the situation, yes."

"Chi-Chi's mighty mad about it."

Vegeta snorted. "Mine wasn't pleased either."

"Do you think we should get the boys together so they can talk it out?"

"No. Let the two handle it themselves. They'll never learn otherwise."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Goku conceded, before he caught sight of someone in the distance and raised a hand to wave at them. "Hey, Krillin and Yamcha have a table just for us, want to come?" Vegeta shook his head. "Alright, but if you change your mind, you know where we're at!" Goku cheerfully informed the prince.

Vegeta opened his mouth to make a snide comment, but the younger Saiyan disappeared before he could. Years with that damn teleporting technique, and he _still_ hadn't gotten used to it. The prince sighed, and was going to resume his search for Gohan, when luck broke on his side.

"Vegeta!" Gohan called out, immediately drawing the prince's attention. The prince turned around as the half-Saiyan jogged up to him. Gohan was wiping sweat off his brow with his forearm, his shirt starting to dampen with sweat from his dancing. "Hey, I'm really glad you made it! Bulma said you'd be in later, but I wasn't sure," he said, smiling widely.

"Of course I was going to make it," Vegeta responded, looking Gohan over. Amazing to think the man before him was the same kid who had cowered behind Piccolo so many years ago. Looking at him now, practically feeling how happy Gohan was, it finally eased his agitation with the party. After all the life and death battles they'd fought, beside each other and against each other, Gohan deserved this. He offered the closest thing to a smile that he was going to muster up that evening, putting a hand on Gohan's shoulder.

"Now kid, pay attention. You remember what I told you about marriage?"

"Huh?" Gohan asked, blinking as he tried racking his brain, but he drew a blank and wound up giving Vegeta a confused look. "When was this?"

"I take that as a no," Vegeta chuckled, releasing his grip on the half-Saiyan's shoulder to reach into his pocket. "I told you years ago that once you became a man and got yourself a woman of your own, you could have this. That time has come."

"Oh…thank you, Vegeta," a red-faced Gohan said as he took the ki-draining handcuffs that the prince was offering him. "Yeah, I uh, I remember now."

"Remember, marriage is about compromise."

"Yeah, ah, thank you for the uh, the gift. I'm sure Videl will, um...enjoy this."

"Hn," Vegeta grunted, patting Gohan on the shoulder again in approval.

Having completed his task, he turned around and headed over by where Goku was seated with his Earthling friends – only because Bulma had joined them now. He went over, noting that all of them were already having drinks and laughing it up. Without a word, Vegeta took the only seat available next to Bulma, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey stranger, you made it," Bulma teased, sliding a beer over to her husband. He grunted and took the glass, chugging it all in one shot. "Did you get your gift for Gohan?" Vegeta put the glass down and offered her a smirk, making her shake her head. "You know what, I don't even want to know."

They all laughed, all except for Goku, who was staring off at a boy across the party who was sulking against the wall. On the opposite wall was another boy, equally sullen. Turning back to the group, he mused aloud, "Guys, I think we should do something about Goten and Trunks."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that fight," Krillin chimed in, raising his drink. "We were here helping Chi-Chi get the tables and everything ready when she got that call. What happened?"

"I don't know, Trunks didn't want to talk about it."

"Neither did Goten," Goku confessed, looking directly at Vegeta. The prince met his eye and scowled.

"What? I told you to let them work it out themselves."

"They're both pretty miserable right now though."

"Good. They deserve it for being two idiots," Vegeta grumbled, reaching for another drink as Bulma rubbed his arm.

"Hon, maybe we _should_ talk to Trunks," she whispered to him.

The prince gave her an incredulous look. "You were the one who suggested we let them resolve it themselves."

"I'm not saying we fix this for him, he needs to do that himself," Bulma clarified. "But I honestly didn't think they would make it this far into the party without talking. Maybe a little nudge is what he needs."

"Whatever," Vegeta gruffly responded, chugging his drink back. "Handle it then, female."

"It can't always be me dealing with every crisis, Vegeta." The prince looked over at his wife, making eye contact with her as neither paid attention to the conversation continuing at their table. "He's getting older, he's going to need to hear things from you more, especially when he gets to his teenage years. It can't always come from Mom, you know."

Vegeta subtly leaned in closer to her, under the guise that he couldn't hear her over the music even though he heard her just fine. It was true, perhaps 90 percent of the problems Trunks had were resolved by Bulma before Vegeta even noticed them. Still, even though he acknowledged his wife was right with his ensuing silence, he honestly didn't know what to tell Trunks regarding this issue the boy had with Goten. He'd never had "problems" with friends; hell, he barely had any "friends" to begin with. For all he knew, he'd make things worse.

"It's alright, I'll handle it," Bulma finally whispered to him, reading his discomfort perfectly. She rubbed his shoulder a little and went to stand up, when he stood up first.

"No," Vegeta said firmly. He reached down for a third beer and chugged all of it in seconds. Once he was finished, he put the empty bottle back down and nodded. "I will handle it. Heavens know you will only coddle the boy more," he mockingly added.

"He doesn't get that stubbornness from my side!" Bulma snapped as Vegeta turned away with an amused smirk.

That smirk quickly disappeared though as he weaved his way over to where his son was leaning up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and a pissed off look on his face. Vegeta recognized that look, and finally saw what Bulma meant. Yes, he might not have been intimately familiar with the human issues that would come up in Trunks' life, but he was still his son and was starting to react to things just like the prince would have, once upon a time. Instead of filling him with pride over how much his son was starting to take after him, the thought almost gave Vegeta a migraine.

Going over next to his son, Vegeta easily mimicked his pose, leaning back against the wall and lifting one knee up to prop the bottom of his foot up on the wall too. Trunks eyed his dad out of the corner of his eye, wondering what the prince would say. But Vegeta said nothing, just stared ahead with an unwavering, intense glare that didn't seem directed at anyone in particular.

"Are you planning to do this all night, boy?" he finally demanded, getting his son's full attention.

"Huh? Do what?" a genuinely confused Trunks asked.

"This. Standing back here, bitter and angry. That's something I do, and it's not worth imitating," Vegeta gruffly stated, shifting his intense glare to his son, who had to fight not to visibly shrink back. "What are you doing, Trunks?"

"Uh, nothing…"

"That's exactly the problem. You're here, miserable. Your other demon half is standing over there, also miserable. Put both of yourselves out of your misery and make your amends, and move on with your lives."

"But he made me so mad, he…"

"He what?"

"Ah, it doesn't matter."

"If it doesn't matter, then why not make your amends and be done with this nonsense?"

Trunks searched for a way to make his father understand. Finally, he squared his shoulders back, and looked his father right in the eye, giving the answer that had been drilled into him since he was a toddler. "Cause I got my pride too, Dad."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed as he stared at his son for so long, the boy almost lost his nerve. To his credit though, Trunks didn't look away. Finally, after what seemed like a millennium, his father snorted.

"Yes, you do. As a warrior in battle, nothing is more important than your own pride," the prince conceded, looking straight ahead again as Trunks relaxed. Convinced that Vegeta understood exactly where he was coming from, the young half-Saiyan was completely caught off guard by his father's next words.

"But as a man, that's not the case. You can take my word for it, or you can learn the hard way, like I did. That's your choice, Trunks. I won't make it for you."

Without waiting for a response, the prince turned and walked away. Moments later, Vegeta was taking his seat again near his wife, who was currently chatting with a rich businessman who did work for Hercule. 18 and Krillin had already departed, and Yamcha and his new girlfriend, along with Goku and Chi-Chi, were accompanying Gohan and Videl on the dance floor. That alone had Vegeta reaching for another beer.

"Hey you," Bulma greeted moments later when the businessman walked away, looking over at her husband. She gave him a wide smile. "I see it went well."

"Hn?" The prince looked over, frowning when he saw that his son had moved from his sulking location. Glancing over, he saw that Trunks was slowly headed in Goten's direction. The prince snorted, looking back at his wife. "Of course it did," he arrogantly replied. "Did you expect anything different?"

Her smile grew as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. Vegeta scowled at her, wiping his face. "Woman, not in public," he growled. "Contain yourself."

"You're such a good dad, you know."

Vegeta's scowl turned into a look of surprise, and then suspicion as he surveyed the drinks spread over the table. "Are you drunk?" he bluntly asked.

Bulma's smile disappeared as she punched the Saiyan in the shoulder. "No, jerk, I'm not drunk. Geez! Can't even give a freakin' compliment around here."

"Whatever."

"But seriously, you really are great with him."

Vegeta shrugged indifferently, uncomfortable with the praise as he went to knock back another beer. This time though, Bulma grabbed his hand to stop him. He raised a confused eyebrow as she scooted her chair closer to his, leaning close enough so their shoulders were almost touching.

"What do you think about what Trunks asked earlier?" she finally prompted, pulling his hand off the beer bottle to cradle it in hers.

"What?" Vegeta asked, thoroughly confused.

"You know, when he asked for a little brother."

Vegeta blinked, and then scoffed. "Tch, stupid idea. I am done with children." Bulma's face fell a little, and she was unable to hide her disappointment. He caught the look on her face and looked even more confused. "What? I thought you didn't want any more either."

"Well, we've never really talked about it."

"I think we did our talking when you refused to have sex with me after Trunks was born unless I wore a condom," he remarked, unable to hide the twinge of bitterness that seeped into his tone over the memory.

Bulma snickered a little. "A lot has changed since then, Vegeta."

"Oh? Like what?" he challenged, pulling his hand free from hers to grab his beer bottle again. There was a sudden round of applause from the hundreds of people in attendance as Gohan spun Videl around romantically on the dance floor, and Bulma diverted her attention momentarily to clap along while Vegeta chugged his beer. The prince could feel himself getting buzzed, and he pleasantly licked his lips to savor the taste as Bulma finally turned back to him.

"Well, we're married for one. I think that's a pretty big change."

"Bulma," Vegeta sighed, looking at her in exasperation. "One is enough and we are struggling to handle him as it is. I don't want more."

"I know, but it's just, I just started thinking after he asked that maybe it'd be better for Trunks not to be an only child-"

"Woman, are you not hearing me? _I – don't – want – more – children_."

Bulma sighed, seeing that look on Vegeta's face that she'd seen on Trunks' earlier. She nodded, accepting his position, knowing she should have anticipated his response. It had taken him a while to warm up to the mere _idea_ of having a son, and they still used birth control on the regular. As much as she knew that Vegeta loved Trunks (even if he never said it), she should have known that he was still vehemently against fathering more children. She herself would have agreed, if it wasn't for the image of Trunks beaming and holding up a baby shirt that didn't leave her mind.

"Alright, it was just a thought based on what the kiddo asked earlier today," she relented, rubbing Vegeta's arm and forcing the image out of her head. "We've got Trunks, and he's enough, huh?"

"More than enough," Vegeta grumbled, looking over to his son who was now laughing with Goten, as though their fight had never happened. "Pain in the ass kid."

"If you think he's a pain now, wait until he's a teenager," she teased.

Vegeta shook his head in defeat and reached for another beer as Bulma laughed. The talks about a sibling for Trunks vanished as they enjoyed the rest of the evening in a party that would be talked about for weeks.

Still, Bulma held out a sliver of hope that maybe, _just maybe,_ one day Vegeta would come around on this too.


	5. Valentine's Day

Bulma knew the day wasn't going to be typical when she went into her son's bedroom to wake the boy up for school, only to find that he was already up. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion when she noticed the light under the door of Trunks' personal bathroom. Trunks being up this early just to go to school? That was a first. Thinking maybe the boy was sick, she went up to the bathroom door and knocked.

"Hey kiddo, you alright in there?"

"I'm fine!" Trunks called back, sounding agitated.

"You sure?"

"Gosh, Mom, I said I'm fine!" Trunks snapped.

"Hey buddy, you better watch that tone!" Bulma warned, earning a loud sigh from the boy on the other side of the door.

"Sorry," he muttered, this time sounding distracted. Bulma's brow furrowed in both curiosity and concern, but she decided not to press on the matter. Yet.

"Alright, I'll see you downstairs for breakfast in twenty minutes?"

"Definitely," Trunks responded, staying quiet while he heard his mother leave his room.

When he was sure that she was gone, he turned back to the mirror in his bedroom and back to the matter at hand. The eleven-year-old boy was kneeling on the bathroom counter, his face inches from the mirror, biting his lips in concentration. Both of his hands were covered in hair gel as he furiously ran them up into his lavender hair, trying his hardest to spike his hair. But damn if his hair wasn't stubborn. Trunks grit his teeth, resisting the urge to ascend to Super Saiyan. Doing so would only get his father's attention, and he didn't want any extra attention from Vegeta that morning. But holy crap, how did actors ever style their hair like this in the movies? Or better yet, why couldn't he have gotten the natural spikes his dad had, instead of inheriting his grandfather's hair?

Trunks paused scrubbing the hair gel in to wonder what he would look like with Vegeta's hair. He cringed when he realized he would just look like a little miniature of his father, and decided maybe his fate wasn't so bad after all.

"Something's up with your son," Bulma informed her husband as she walked into the kitchen a few minutes later. Vegeta grunted with indifference, raising his mug of hot coffee up for another drink as he read over the newspaper in his other hand. "Earth to Vegeta," Bulma announced loudly, making her husband finally look up at her in irritation. "Did you not hear me?"

"I'm certain everyone in the galaxy can hear you, loud wench," he sneered, raising his mug for another drink. "Besides, the boy's ki is normal. There is nothing to be concerned about."

"Feels like I'm the only sane one around here," Bulma grumbled to herself as she poured herself her own mug of coffee. "Well, since tomorrow is Valentine's Day, I'll just ask him then."

Vegeta shook his head at the reminder. Valentine's Day, yet another Earth tradition he didn't understand, and one he refused to participate in. A day to spend with the woman he married? He spent every day with her as it was. No matter how many times Bulma had tried explaining why it was a special day, he didn't understand, nor did he care to. It seemed to him to be another day to give the woman what she wanted, but she already had her birthday, their wedding anniversary, and Christmas. How many days did the woman need?

Fortunately, it seemed that after the first few years of their marriage, Bulma had finally given up on making Valentine's Day a thing between them, letting him off the hook. She therefore turned the day into one she would share with her other true love, her son, Trunks. Over the years, mother and son would enjoy Valentine's Day by getting a nice dinner out, just the two of them. It had become a nice tradition and one that worked for their unique family.

Vegeta closed his eyes when he suddenly detected a new ki approaching, raising his cup of coffee again. "The other brat just arrived," he gruffly announced.

"Goten?" Bulma asked, going over to peer out the window. "Good, breakfast should be ready in a bit."

"Must that boy always come in?" Vegeta growled. "He could just as easily wait for Trunks outside."

"Oh quit it, you love Goten," Bulma teased, leaving the kitchen to go let their guest in. Vegeta lowered his mug and exhaled slowly through his nose, reminding himself that killing anyone the day before Valentine's Day would be in extremely poor taste. He muttered to himself in his native language, before raising his newspaper again. Hopefully, if he looked like he was busy, the boy would take a hint and not speak to him.

"Hiya Vegeta!" Goten happily greeted him as he ran into the kitchen. Vegeta ignored him, as usual, holding up his newspaper high enough so that only his hair above it was visible. That didn't stop Goten from taking the seat next to him, dropping his backpack over the back of the chair. "Oh, I didn't know you read the newspaper," he commented, tilting his head in curiosity. He leaned up, trying to see what the prince was reading. "Checking out sport scores?"

"I am reading over all the murders that happened over the last day, and if you don't shut up, you'll be the next story," Vegeta gruffly informed the boy, not bothering to lower the newspaper. Goten blinked; for all the years he had spent in Vegeta's house, sometimes he was still caught off guard by the prince's bluntness. Bulma chuckled and patted his back, drawing his attention away.

"Don't mind him. My bots should have breakfast should be ready soon, if you haven't already eaten."

"Oh, thanks!" Goten said, smiling as he took a seat. "I've already had breakfast, but I wouldn't mind a little more!" He glanced up at a clock on the wall, then looked down at his own watch. "Hm. Trunks isn't ready yet?"

"He should be down soon. If he isn't, I'll send his father after him."

"Makes sense. He's gotta look good for his new girlfriend!" Goten happily announced. Vegeta didn't react even as Bulma spun back around to face Goten, her eyes wide.

"What? Girlfriend? Trunks has a girlfriend? Since when?" she demanded. Goten blinked a few times, realizing his mistake. He forced a chuckle, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

"Ah, did I say girlfriend?" he forced a laugh. Bulma's ice cold glare though quickly melted his spine and he lowered his arm, laying both palms on the table and forcing himself to swallow.

"Are you listening to this?" Bulma demanded, shifting her attention to her husband. Vegeta grunted with indifference, making Bulma sigh as she turned back to Goten. "Young man, you go upstairs and get Trunks down here, _now._ "

"Yes ma'am," Goten immediately answered, disappearing in a flash up towards his best friend's room. Bulma watched him go, and then turned back to her husband. Without a word of warning, she snatched the newspaper right out of his hands. The prince's eyes widened as he looked up at his wife.

"Wake up, Vegeta, before I add you to the murder count."

Vegeta rolled his eyes, dismissively waving her off with one hand while he reached for his mug with the other. "Whatever. Where's the food?"

"Goten is sitting here saying that your eleven-year-old son has a girlfriend, and you don't care?"

"He has lots of female friends, what is the problem?" Vegeta demanded, trying hard to mask his confusion but unable to keep the subtle look from crossing his face for a second. Unfortunately, the only person on the planet who could catch the look was the one staring right at him.

Bulma exhaled, grabbing her own mug of coffee, though at the moment she would have preferred some strong liquor. "No, Vegeta. A girlfriend is a girl that he'd be dating, remember? Just like with Gohan and Videl, how before they got married, she was his girlfriend."

Vegeta stared back at her, the mask on his face unreadable. Finally, he snorted. "Woman, calm yourself, it's likely a childish infatuation. I highly doubt he wants to fuck the female."

"Vegeta!" Bulma hissed. He raised an eyebrow, this time not bothering to hide his confusion.

"What?" he asked in bewilderment, right as the two boys appeared in the kitchen. Bulma and Vegeta both turned towards the boys, and both of their jaws dropped.

"Okay, Mom, Dad, look-"

"Trunks," Bulma started, blinking slowly. "What did you-"

"I don't have a real girlfriend or anything," Trunks blurted out. He forced a huge smile on his face, waving his hands innocently. "There's a girl at school, and she's cute, but that's it, and-"

"What the fuck did you do to your hair, boy?" Vegeta demanded.

"Oh," Trunks said, suddenly turning red. He shrugged, looking up toward the ceiling as though he could see his hair. Of course, he couldn't, because it was standing straight up, the light lavender color now a dark purple and glistening with hair gel. "Well, ah, I just wanted to try something new!"

"Hana thinks boys with spiky hair are cute," Goten chimed in, earning a hard fist on the top of his head from Trunks. "Yowch, Trunks!" he hollered, glaring at his friend.

"Shut up!" Trunks hissed.

"You did this to your hair because of a girl?" Bulma incredulously asked, cringing as she looked at the mess he'd made of his hair. It looked like a purple explosion had transpired on her son's head.

"Wellllll, it wasn't TOTALLY because of her, but um, Valentine's Day is tomorrow and I wanted to ask her to be my Valentine, and I wanted to look good!" Trunks excitedly explained.

"I'm going to train. I will eat later," Vegeta announced, standing up with his coffee and newspaper. As far as he was concerned, a Valentine's Day issue was a human issue, and the woman could handle it. Besides, if he had to look at that hideous hair his son was sporting for much longer, he was liable to tear it all off or burn it all off, but he figured that would also be in poor taste, at least so close to the boy's annual Valentine's Day dinner with his mother.

"Vegeta!" Bulma yelled after him, but the prince had already made his hasty retreat. And he wasn't the only one with escape on the brain.

"Hey Mom, I'm gonna be late for school, I gotta go, I'll see you when I get home!" Trunks said in one rushed breath. Using his supernatural speed and fully aware that he was going to be in big trouble later for leaving with the discussion unresolved, he instantly grabbed a surprised Goten by the back of the shirt and flew off dragging the younger boy with him.

"Trunks Briefs, don't you DARE leave with your hair like that-!" the door shut behind both boys, making Bulma put her hands on her hips and scoff in disbelief. "That little shit," she muttered under her breath, stealing her husband's private nickname for their son.

But no one left Bulma Briefs hanging, not her husband, and damn sure not her eleven-year-old son.

Five hours later, Vegeta was doing pushups outside in the bright sunlight as he cooled down from his morning workout in the gravity room. His sweat was dripping into the fresh grass as his body slowly adjusted back to Earth's gravity; just a few more minutes and then he could shower and – most importantly – eat. Skipping breakfast was rare for him, and he was absolutely famished. But if there was one thing that would always trump his hunger, it was his discipline. He wouldn't eat until he finished what he was doing.

The prince growled low in his throat when he heard the cell phone near him start vibrating in the grass. Only two people on the planet had the number, and one of those people was in school. Smoothly switching to one handed pushups without breaking his flawless rhythm and technique, the prince reached over and grabbed the phone.

"What," he angrily demanded.

"Don't 'what' me, jackass. Can't your gorgeous wife call you during the day? Other men could only be so lucky to have someone like me calling them," Bulma smugly informed him.

"Hn. My wife only calls me when she wants me to do something or take care of something before she comes home from work."

"Well, maybe I do want something."

He growled low, "Out with it, then."

"I want you."

 _That_ certainly got his attention, making him stop his methodical pushups. Vegeta slowly moved over so he was sitting on the grass, suddenly intrigued. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice cocky as he smirked. "Other women could only be so lucky to have a husband like me that they could call whenever they're in the mood."

"Easy, I just want to get lunch with my sexy husband. No time for a quickie today, hot stuff. You'll just have to wait til later for that."

Vegeta exhaled, his face slowly burning in embarrassment. "Vulgar woman," he muttered.

Bulma laughed outright, "Right, anyway, meet me for lunch?"

"Hn. Whatever."

"Great, I'm by Trunks' school."

Thirty minutes later, Vegeta was walking down the sidewalk across from Trunks' school, having stuffed his hair under a baseball cap. He tried to keep the bewilderment off his face when he approached the strange car Bulma was in. Even though he recognized her ki, the prince still peered down through the glass to make sure it really was his wife. He did a double take when he saw that her blue hair was nowhere to be seen, curled blonde curls replacing them. Vegeta's nose twitched as he opened the passenger door and climbed into the car, slamming the door shut after him.

"Can you not slam the doors please? This rental cost a pretty penny, you know!" Bulma told him in exasperation, lowering her sunglasses a bit to peer at him. "Where are your shades?"

"What the hell did you do to your hair?" Vegeta demanded, wondering what had gotten into his family when it came to their hair. If they expected him to change his hair, _ever,_ they were both going to be supremely disappointed.

"Nothing, it's a wig," Bulma answered with a smirk, smugly tossing her hair back. Vegeta unconsciously relaxed at the news. His wife had changed her hairstyle many times over the years, and he had never cared because it was always the color he liked the most. "Now remember, we're in a covert operation right now, so don't raise your ki."

Vegeta blinked, wondering if his wife had finally lost her mind. It was only then that he noticed the enormous binoculars on her lap. When he followed her line of sight towards the children in the schoolyard, one of whom was his son, he leaned his head back and groaned.

"Woman, you cannot be serious right now."

"Hey, we need to find out just who this _Hana_ girl is, buddy," Bulma told him matter-of-factly. "There are lots of people who would just love to see me, or Capsule Corp, fail. One of them could've sent this kid to get close to Trunks, to find out my trade secrets."

Vegeta snorted. "And your solution is to what? Stalk the female child?"

"There's nothing wrong with getting some intel," she argued. Vegeta thoughtfully considered her words for a few moments, before snickering.

"Woman, you are just being paranoid. This is all nothing but a motherly crisis because the boy is maturing. Get used to it, woman. Before you know it, he'll be a man with a family of his own."

Bulma sighed deeply, looking over to where Trunks was playing with his classmates. "Yeah, he is growing up," she relented. "But you know what that means. It's time, Vegeta."

"Damn right it's time. Time to eat. Drive, woman, and take us to the nearest place with food," the Saiyan ordered.

"No, I mean it's time you have the talk with him."

He raised an eyebrow. "Talk?"

"You know, about sex, how babies are made, everything a young man needs to know."

"You must be joking," Vegeta snorted. Bulma reached up and removed her shades so they would be making clear eye contact, and after a few seconds, he realized she was dead serious. The prince scowled. "Why the hell would I ever talk to him about that? _I_ never got a _talk,_ I just figured it out on my own, like a real man."

"Sweetheart, I love you, but I'd rather our son not go down any path you went down when you were his age."

Vegeta's scowl worsened as he looked straight ahead, reflecting back on that time. Life had been savage, brutal and raw in those days. It was nothing that he ever wanted for his son. Bulma watched the way his eyes started getting distant, before reaching over and gently taking his hand in hers. The prince looked away from her completely, staring out his passenger window. He didn't return the hold, but he didn't pull his hand away either.

"He needs to learn how things work. He's got his first real crush, and while this one might be innocent-"

"-so innocent that you are here in disguise to spy on him?" he snidely interrupted.

Bulma scowled. " _Anyway,"_ she snapped, "that's not the point. The point is that it's his first crush and I'm sure that he'll have many more, so best to arm him with the right knowledge now."

"You talk about it like it's a battle."

"Love is a battle, baby," she teased. Vegeta rolled his eyes, not taking her bait. Bulma's smile waned and she tightened her grip on his hand. "Vegeta, what is it? Talk to me."

Vegeta considered his words carefully, before musing, "You know as much about this as I do. Why don't you just talk to the boy instead?"

"Well I definitely could, but hon, it'd be easier for him to hear it from his dad."

That was definitely true, he silently conceded that. He didn't need to look back to feel his son's ki, vibrant and dominant among his friends. The boy really was growing up, and his wife was right, this was only the beginning. But the extent of knowledge he had to pass down to Trunks involved combat and survival, not how to resolve conflicts with friends, approach girls, or navigate through school. His son might have had Saiyan blood but he was growing up in a human world, and he needed a father who understood that world. Unfortunately for the boy, he didn't have that father. Vegeta raised his free hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he did.

"It'll be okay, you'll see. You're not the first man to have to do this for his son. You'll be alright," Bulma assured him. Vegeta lowered his hand and turned his head to make eye contact with her, earning him her best smile, a reminder of a promise made nearly a decade ago that he wouldn't be alone in this. For the moment, his worries were eased.

Vegeta scoffed, pulling his hand away from hers to cross his arms over his chest as he glared straight ahead. "Of course I will. Now let's get some goddamn food already," he impatiently ordered. He surely wasn't going to have that conversation with Trunks on an empty stomach.

Bulma's smile only spread as she turned the car on. "Alright, alright…"

Later that day, Trunks slowly pushed open the front door to the compound, peering inside. He did a ki sweep and determined that his father was in the gravity room. That was good, his dad wouldn't notice him sneaking in. His mother, on the other hand, was-

-suddenly right next to him, her hand on his ear as she hauled him inside. Trunks howled in surprise as he stumbled in, grimacing at the pain in his ear. At the moment, he was wondering if the woman really was human. That grip on his ear hurt like hell.

"Ow, Mom!" he cried out. Bulma released him, and Trunks gulped as he stared up at her. His mother was still taller than him, and in that moment, it felt like she was looming, making her even more intimidating than she already was. In retrospect, he should've just flown straight to his bedroom window and snuck in that way.

"Young man, today was the first and the last time that you run off without us ending a conversation, got it?" Bulma sternly informed him, poking him in the shoulder. Trunks instantly nodded, looking down.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"If you're sorry, then listen to what I'm going to tell you. One, if you want to spike your hair, talk to me and I'll help you spike it. Believe me, kid, no one in this family knows how to look good more than I do. Two, you don't need to change any part of how you look to make a girl like you. You hear me?"

"Uh huh," Trunks nodded, before beaming up at his mother, eager to change the subject. "Can we go out later and buy Valentine's Day cards, please? I want to buy one for Hana."

"You have to talk to your father first, then we'll go."

Trunks' smile fell, replaced with a look of concern as he gulped again. "I'm still in trouble?" he warily asked.

"No," Bulma chuckled, smiling a little as she ruffled his gel-laden hair atrocity. "But you do need to talk to him. Come find me when you're done, and we'll go get your Valentine's Day cards."

"Awesome, thanks Mom," Trunks sighed in relief. Bulma leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, uncaring that she was leaving lipstick on the boy. He smiled at her before she left the room, and then figured he might as well go see his dad right away. Besides, the sooner he got it over with, the sooner they could go buy cards.

A minute later, and Trunks was walking up the ramp to the gravity chamber. He levitated up to peer in through the oval glass portal, expecting to see his father rigorously training. The boy blinked in surprise though when he saw that Vegeta was sitting down on the floor, cross-legged, looking over some documentation with intense concentration. Curious, he levitated closer to the glass to try to make out what his father was reading that was more important than his afternoon training session, making sure to keep his ki undetectable.

 _You going to come in, or are you just going to stare?_ Vegeta demanded telepathically without looking up from what he was reading, startling his son.

 _I was trying to hide my ki, how'd you know I was here?_ Trunks asked in astonishment. The prince scoffed.

_You have a lot to learn, boy._

_Mom said you wanted to talk?_

_Yes, but go shower first. I don't want to see you with that ridiculous hair._

_Huh, kind of weird, considering your hairstyle,_ Trunks accidentally projected, his eyes widening in fear when Vegeta looked up with a dark, murderous look in his eyes. He had meant to keep that thought to himself; he sorely needed to practice his telepathy more. _Ah, I mean—I'm gonna go shower now!_ Trunks nervously projected, instantly vanishing from sight.

Vegeta exhaled slowly through his nose, shaking his head. He looked back down at the printouts he had for reference- "How to Talk to Your Son About Sex", "Giving Your Kid THE TALK", "Explaining Sex to Children". Bulma had been right, affirming what he had known his whole life: intel was always of the utmost importance, and he was going to be prepared. Still, he rubbed at one of his temples in exasperation. He was going to need some alcohol to get through this.

Half an hour later, a freshly showered Trunks was bounding down the stairs. His hair definitely felt lighter, and though he hadn't minded his crazy haired look, he hadn't felt completely right with it. His usual look was much better, and he mentally agreed with what Bulma had told him earlier. No sense in changing what he liked about his appearance for anyone else.

Trunks did a ki sweep again, and this time placed his father in the kitchen. The boy headed over, raising an eyebrow when he saw that Vegeta was sitting in the adjoining dining room, at the head of the table with a bowl of fruit in the middle of said table.

"Oh sweet, snacks!" Trunks happily exclaimed, immediately heading over and snatching up a banana. He had barely lifted the banana when Vegeta swiped it from him.

"This fruit is not for eating, boy. Sit down," the prince sternly ordered. " _Now."_

 _Aw, crap, I'm in trouble after all, what did I do now?_ Trunks anxiously thought to himself as he took a seat on Vegeta's left hand side. _Does he know about that lamp I broke?_

"What lamp?" Vegeta demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"Aw, crap," Trunks hissed to himself. He really was off his telepathy game that day.

"You know what? I don't even want to know," Vegeta muttered, letting his son off the hook for once. After all, Bulma had millions of lamps. If she hadn't noticed that one was broken, then he certainly wasn't going to point it out to her. "That's not the reason why you're here."

"Okay," Trunks replied with a nod, trying not to show how confused he was. "So uh, what did you want to talk about?"

"Son," Vegeta started, squaring his shoulders and making eye contact with the boy next to him, as though he was about to deliver strict orders for a purge. "Soon you're going to start going through changes. You're going to start becoming a man."

"Uh, yeah," Trunks agreed with a nod, wondering why his dad was acting so weird. He eyed the bowl of fruit again. "Can I please just have half of a banana?"

"No you may not, goddamnit," Vegeta snapped, making Trunks sigh. The boy scratched at his ear absent-mindedly as Vegeta cleared his throat. "Now pay attention. What do you know about sex?"

"Oh, yeah, I know what that is," Trunks casually said with a shrug, earning a stunned look from his father.

"You do?"

"Yeah, it's like adult dancing, that's what Goten's parents said when he asked them," Trunks confidently answered. Vegeta's eye started to twitch, and he reached up to rub at his eye, making a mental note to kick Goku in the face in their next sparring session.

"No, that is not right. Kakarot apparently couldn't tell the difference between males and females when he was your age, so do not listen to him about anything involving sex or relationships, understand?" Vegeta gruffly demanded. Trunks nodded, and Vegeta paused momentarily before hesitantly asking, "…You _do_ know the difference between a male and a female, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Trunks scoffed, sounding insulted. Relieved, Vegeta nodded. At least he wasn't starting from zero.

"Good. Now, listen. Forget the bullshit about buying babies. That's not where they come from. Infants happen when a man and a woman have sex. Follow so far?"

"Uh, I guess."

"Now, you have a penis; what do women have?"

"Pillows! Duh."

"Right – what? Pillows? What the hell are you talking about?" Vegeta asked in exasperation.

Trunks sighed dramatically, wondering if he had to explain everything to his dad. "You know," Trunks answered, gesturing out in front of his chest, making the motion for breasts. "Pillows. That's what Mom calls 'em. We don't have that."

Vegeta ran one hand down his face, muttering in his foreign language to himself. Reaching over to his six-pack of beer, he pulled a bottle out and ripped off the cap with his teeth. He took a good chug, letting it go down before he deadpanned, "Trunks, they are not called pillows."

"Oh! Right. Gohan called them coconuts once."

Vegeta nearly shattered his bottle of beer as a vein visibly began to throb on his temple. "He did what?"

"Well he didn't know Goten and I were there, we were sneaking up on him to surprise him but he was with Videl. He told her she had nice coconuts and that they tasted good, and we could tell she didn't have a top on, so we figured that's what he meant. We left though, we didn't want to get in trouble."

"Well I'll just file that under information about Gohan I did not need to know," Vegeta drawled, raising his beer for another drink. He chugged the rest of the bottle in one shot, much to the amazement of the boy watching.

"Can I try that? Just a sip?" Trunks eagerly asked.

"Not today, now listen up. I won't get into the technical details or the explicit terminology today. I'm only going to explain the gist so you're not ignorant to how life works, understand? Do you have any questions thus far? No? Good," Vegeta stated, not giving his son a chance to speak as he reached into the bowl of fruit. Trunks had a look of bewilderment on his face as Vegeta pulled out the banana he'd been craving along with a sliced apple.

"First of all, they're not called pillows or coconuts. They are called breasts. But they're not the only difference between men and women. Basically, this is what men have," Vegeta informed his son, raising the banana to be clear. "And this is what women have," he added, raising the apple in his other hand, which had been sliced in a peculiar way.

"We all have bananas?" Trunks asked in confusion while Vegeta peeled the banana.

"I meant, this is what most people have in their pants. This represents a penis," he slowly explained, bringing the banana closer to Trunks.

"Ohhhh!" Trunks exclaimed, nodding. "The banana looks like what we have, and the apple looks like what girls have?"

"Precisely."

"Gross," the boy muttered, looking at the apple in disgust.

Vegeta closed his eyes again, feeling his vein pulsing. "Well, you might change your mind about that later on in your life. Now, shut up and listen. There are different ways you can have sex, but the one that will lead to babies is this." With that, the prince abruptly tried shoving the banana into the apple.

"Fuck," he hissed when the banana became smashed and fell apart at the half. The prince tried to reattach the banana, but it was a lost cause. Trunks winced, one hand unconsciously going over his own crotch.

Vegeta cursed, and then lost his patience as he snarled, "Well, whatever, you get the damn idea, boy. The man inserts his penis into the woman's vagina, and then if the female accepts the seed, there is a baby that comes out of the female however many months later. If you don't want to be a father – which you better not be for a long, _long_ time – you take measures to stop it. There are ways to still have sex without making a child. Any questions?"

"Uhhh…why would any guy ever put his penis inside there? That sounds gross," Trunks commented with a disgusted look on his face.

Vegeta snickered at that. "Yes, well, we shall see if you feel the same way a few years from now."

Trunks nodded, realization slowly dawning on him. "So, the baby grows inside the girl? Is that why Mom's stomach was big when she was pregnant with me?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Because you put your penis in Mom?"

Vegeta lowered the smashed fruit he had, reaching for a fresh beer. He grunted in acknowledgement, twisting the cap off, one eye on the clock. On the one hand he wanted this conversation over with as soon as possible, but on the other hand, the more questions he answered now, the less he'd have to answer later.

"So you musta wanted to be a father, otherwise you said you would've done something to stop it, right?"

Vegeta gazed at the boy, forcing his face to stay neutral. No, he had not wanted him, but Trunks didn't need to know all those details, even if the prince's perception had obviously changed since that time. Perhaps someday, when the boy was a man, he could have a man-to-man talk with him. The prince always felt as though he owed Trunks an apology, even if the boy had been too young at the time to be aware of his father's rejection. But he had his hands full with the current line of conversation. That one could wait.

"Right," he finally lied, nodding and forcing back the guilt that came with lying to his son. "When you're mature enough to start wanting to have sex, you come talk to me first. You aren't getting any female pregnant for a long time, understand? I'll tell you what to do when that time comes." Trunks nodded, biting his lower lip thoughtfully, staying silent. Vegeta sighed, "You are just as transparent as your mother. Say what you want to say."

"Well…I was just wonderin'…can you do the sex thing with Mom so she can get pregnant and I can have a little brother?" Trunks eagerly blurted out.

Cracks were spreading in Vegeta's beer bottle, but Bulma called out to them before he could respond. "Hey, where are my two handsome Saiyans?"

"We're in here!" Trunks called back. A few moments later, Bulma appeared in the doorway, smiling at them both.

"Hey guys, didn't mean to interrupt…" she paused, eyeing the smashed fruit on the table in confusion.

"Don't ask," Vegeta grumbled, bringing his beer up for another drink.

Bulma laughed, "I won't, just wanted to make sure everything here was going alright."

"Yeah! Dad was talking to me about sex," Trunks excitedly informed his mother, to which Bulma smiled and nodded in approval.

"Oh, good. Well, I won't interrupt then-"

"Mom, wait!" Trunks cried out. The boy slipped out of his chair and ran up to his mother, grabbing both of her hands, his blue eyes wide with excitement as he grinned up at her. "Can you and Dad have sex so I can have a little brother?"

"Oh, um, wow," Bulma stuttered out, uncharacteristically left at a loss for words. "You still want a little brother?"

"Yeah! That'd be _sooo cool,_ and I thought you had to buy him, but you two could just make him so it's even better!" Trunks said happily, already imagining having a little brother walking around who would look up to him and admire him the same way Goten did with Gohan.

"Enough with the talk of a brother already," Vegeta snidely chimed in, getting both of their attention. "It's not going to happen, kid. Enough."

"But why not?" Trunks whined. "It seems easy, you just smash the banana into the apple! I mean, you two obviously have done it at least once if I'm here, right?"

"Blasted fruits," Vegeta whispered, raising one hand to cover his eyes. Just his luck, Trunks was unabashed and would likely be just as vulgar as his mother.

Undeterred, Trunks spun back to his mother. "Mom? Please?"

"Honey, it's a lot more complicated than that. Your dad and I would have to talk about it more-"

"There is nothing to talk about," Vegeta snarled, standing abruptly. "You are _not_ having a sibling," he informed Trunks, not leaving any room for argument. His eyes shifted to his wife's as he angrily added, "End of discussion already."

He left the room abruptly, and though Bulma would have gone after him, she figured that could wait. She was more concerned with the disappointed boy standing in front of her.

"It's alright, sweetie. I'll talk to him." Trunks nodded sullenly, so Bulma reached down to him and ruffled his hair. "How about we go get some cards for your classmates, and a special one for Hana? And I can answer any other questions you might have about what your dad told you?"

"Alright," Trunks nodded again, feeling a little better as Bulma led him away.

While mother and son went Valentine's Day shopping, Vegeta spent the rest of the evening training, putting the whole awkward ordeal behind him. He had missed a good chunk of his usual routine in preparing for his conversation with his son, a conversation that would surely resume in even more excruciating detail once the boy finished puberty and his needs fully developed. He himself had been around 17 when he finally started becoming interested in sex, so hopefully that time was still distant for Trunks. But at least now the boy was wiser than he was yesterday.

It was right around Trunks' bedtime when Bulma brought him back home. When Vegeta sensed their arrival, he started his routine to wind down his workout. It'd been a long day, and he wanted nothing more than to eat and then get to bed. But first, he wanted to check in with Trunks.

The prince found his son in his room a short while later. Trunks was sitting crosslegged on his bed in his underwear and a t-shirt, holding his Valentine's Day card in his hands, a scowl on his face as he stared down at it. Vegeta leaned in the doorframe, knocking on the open door to announce his arrival, startling the boy out of his concentration.

Vegeta grunted, frowning in disapproval as he crossed his arms over his chest. "A warrior should always be aware of his surroundings, Trunks," he chided.

"I know," Trunks sighed, looking back down at his card as he lapsed into silence.

"I didn't get the chance to ask you, if you understood everything we discussed today."

"Yeah, I think so."

"And you're aware that you won't be doing any of that until you're older, correct?"

"Oh yeah, it's gross, I probably won't ever do anything like that," Trunks replied as he shook his head, crinkling his face in disgust. Vegeta smirked a little at his boy's innocence, and he was turning to leave when Trunks looked up. "Hey, Dad?" The prince paused, looking back and raising an eyebrow.

"How come you don't want another kid?"

Vegeta looked away, exhaling through his nose. The real answer was too complex to give to the boy, at least without going into further details about his past. Trunks didn't know anything about that yet, but it was only a matter of time. Finally, he looked back at the boy sitting crosslegged on his Batman bedset. He didn't need to give the complete answer, but that didn't mean he couldn't be honest with his son.

"You're enough," he gruffly stated. Trunks nodded in understanding, looking down as his father flicked off the light to his room. "Now go to bed and don't let me hear you awake, understand?"

"I understand," Trunks responded, tucking his card under his pillow as Vegeta closed the door. As soon as the door clicked shut, the boy crawled under his covers and rolled onto his side, not needing to hide his smile anymore.

Meanwhile, Bulma was in her king sized bed, engrossed in her latest romance novel. She didn't look up when her husband finally walked in, instead just turning the page of her book. Vegeta paused and looked at his wife, but when she didn't acknowledge his presence, he scowled and went into their private bathroom for a quick shower.

But when he emerged ten minutes later in only his towel, he still wasn't acknowledged. Vegeta dried off, and then went over to his side of the bed. He tossed his towel aside and got in under the covers, moving until he was sitting inches away from his wife. Still, Bulma ignored him. The prince finally lowered his face to nuzzle her arm, but she pulled away from him.

"Not tonight," she informed him, turning a page in her book. "I'm not in the mood."

Vegeta slowly sighed. He pulled himself up straighter and then leaned back on the headboards, eyes drifting up to the ceiling as he asked the gods, kais, and whoever else might be listening for patience. "Now what did I do?" he demanded.

"You mean besides being a jackass? Nothing."

"What in the galaxy are you on about, woman?" he asked defensively, racking his brain for something he'd done, but he was drawing a blank.

"The way you shot down Trunks when he asked for a kid brother," Bulma said, finally closing her book to turn and fix her husband with a glare.

Vegeta snorted dismissively, shaking his head. "So this is about sparing the boy's feelings? Trunks is fine, he'll live."

"No, this isn't about his feelings, it's about us. It's about you making decisions for the both of us without talking to me about it first."

"What the hell is this about, Bulma?" Vegeta demanded, bewildered now.

"It's about you deciding on your own that we're not having any more kids."

"Gods, enough with this fucking nonsense with having more children," he snarled, his patience finally snapping. "I am done hearing about it, you hear me, woman?"

"See? You see?" Bulma snapped, sitting up and poking him hard in the shoulder. "That's it, right there. You made the decision for both of us on your own, without me."

"We talked about this before!" he shot back.

"What? Once last year during Gohan's engagement party? Oh I remember that conversation, I've been thinking about it all night. You shut me down then too, but I let it go then, you know why?" Bulma asked him, leaning in closer to him. Vegeta recognized that look on her face and he wisely bit his tongue, shaking his head. "Because I remember what it was like before we got married. I know how long it took you to accept Trunks, and that was fine because you didn't owe me a damn thing back then."

"And what? Now that we're married I owe you another kid?" he sneered.

"No, of course you don't," Bulma sighed in exasperation, brushing some loose blue strands out of her face. Between the infuriating man in her bed and the increasingly mischievous boy they were raising, she was sure to grow gray hair soon. "But is it too much to ask for you to at least give me the time of day to tell you how I feel about it? We're freakin' _married_ now, Vegeta. It goes both ways now, in case you forgot. If you still feel the same afterwards, that's fine, but I think my voice should at least be heard."

"There's nothing to talk about, you just said it yourself, you're not going to change my mind so what's the fucking point? We're not having any more kids and that is _final._ "

"But why? Why don't you want any?" Bulma challenged, undeterred.

"Because I don't," he snapped, his voice rising as he added, "Enough about this already!"

"You know what, you can pull that bullshit with Trunks but you can't pull it with me. If you're gonna act like this and not even consider how I might feel about it, then at least give me a good reason, I know you have one and you owe me at least that much!"

"Look, female. All I want to do is sleep. I am done talking about this."

"Yeah? Well how about you sleep somewhere else then, so I won't be bothering you?"

"Fantastic idea," Vegeta sarcastically responded. Bulma exhaled slowly through her nose, shaking her head as she picked up her book again while Vegeta hunted for the closest pair of shorts he could find. She heard him hastily pull some on, and a second later, the door closed behind him.

Bulma sighed in defeat. Her fight was likely in vain, because odds were that Vegeta was right; she likely couldn't change his mind. Truth be told, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to. She just wanted him to hear her and consider her for a moment before shutting the idea down completely.

She shook her head again, looking for the line in her book where she had left off.

If only real life could be as easy as in her books.

At least one thing was always easy: her annual Valentine's Day dinner with her son. Bulma looked forward to it every year for two reasons: one, it let her spend some good quality time with her favorite hybrid Saiyan, and two, she always used the moment to teach her son how to behave like a gentleman out on a date. Vegeta believed it was never too early to begin physical training with their son, and she likewise believed it was never too early to instill etiquette into the boy, especially with the enormous inheritance he was going to get.

"Trunks, baby, you're smacking," Bulma informed her son the following evening during their dinner. Trunks instantly stopped his loud chewing, brushing at his mouth with his napkin while he swallowed.

"Sorry, just hungry," he said, looking back down to cut into his steak, doing it exactly as his mother taught him. His lavender hair was spiked up again, but this time, it was under Bulma's guidance so it looked much better and much more refined. That along with his neatly pressed white dress shirt and tie, and Bulma knew that she and Vegeta had done well in making themselves a handsome young man.

Mostly from her flawless genes though, she was sure.

"I know, that's your father's side talking," Bulma knowingly said, digging into her own food. "So, how did things go with Hana? Did you give her your card?"

"Mhmm," Trunks nodded, closing his eyes happily as he grinned. "She liked it! She was my Valentine for the day," he triumphantly informed his mother.

"Is that right?"

Trunks nodded again, and then looked sheepish as a blush crept over his face. "And we…held hands during recess," he hesitantly admitted, warily watching his mother for a reaction.

"Oh wow, sounds like it's getting pretty serious," Bulma said with a smile. Trunks relaxed and shrugged.

"Eh, she's moving soon. Going to North City next week I think."

"Aw, that's unfortunate."

"It's okay, at least she's gonna keep my card! Plus I still have all my other friends."

"Yes, you do. Plus all that will come when you're older anyway."

"Just so long as it doesn't come with the banana apple thing, that's _sooo_ gross," Trunks said, shuddering in disgust as he looked down at his food, getting another forkful ready. "I don't know how you grown-ups do that stuff, ugh."

"I hope you feel like that for a long time, kid," Bulma laughed.

"He better," Vegeta's gruff voice suddenly cut in, startling both his wife and son.

"Man, Dad, I didn't even sense you!" Trunks marveled, before swearing, "One day, I'm gonna sneak up on you and you won't know I'm there."

"Tch, got a ways to go til you get to that point, boy," Vegeta snickered.

He eyed his wife, but she was busy ignoring him by trying to cut the meat on her own plate. Vegeta scowled. It was Valentine's Day, and while the couple didn't celebrate it outright, they did at least usually have either breakfast or lunch together that day. But instead, he had gotten nothing but radio silence with his wife ignoring him all day. He figured if ever he was going to make amends, tonight would be the best night to do so.

Vegeta pulled out some money from the backpocket of his black dress pants, leafing through the bills. He often helped his father-in-law with translation work, a skill that came so easy for him it made him feel awkward earning money for it. But Dr. Briefs insisted, and in moments like these, he didn't mind.

"Here, kid," he said, tossing a few bills on the table in front of Trunks. "Go see a movie with Goten or something."

"Awesome!" Trunks gleefully cried out, snatching up the bills, eager to bolt. Catching the look from his mother though, he instead stood up slowly, pulling his chair a little further out for his father. He then smiled at them both. "Have a good evening, Mom, Dad," he politely said, before tucking the money into his pants pocket and strolling off towards the exit.

Once he had left and Vegeta was sure he was heading towards Goku's house, the prince went over and took the boy's seat. He pored over the food on the table as he smoothed down his own white dress shirt, worn only to adhere to the dress code in the restaurant. Bulma fought against her smile at how much Trunks had looked like his father earlier with his spiked hair.

"Where the hell is the alcohol? You two didn't order any?" Vegeta demanded, brow furrowing. Bulma's smile disappeared before it ever formed.

"Well, at least one man in this family will have some manners," she grumbled. "What do you want, Vegeta? I'd rather not argue with you today of all days."

The prince picked up Trunks' glass of soda, chugging it all down in one shot. He exhaled slowly as he put the glass down.

"You've been ignoring me all day," he finally stated, his eyes still on his glass.

"And?"

"It's Valentine's Day."

Bulma guffawed, "You have never cared about Valentine's Day, ever. We don't even swap gifts or do anything special on this day. Now, suddenly, you care about the day?"

"We usually have at least one meal together on this day. We have for nearly a decade," he informed her, his features hard as he looked back at her. "I don't enjoy having my routine interrupted, female."

Bulma lowered her utensils to the table, looking around for a server. She needed a good martini. Unfortunately, all the servers were preoccupied, so she turned back to look at her husband. The two stared at each other in silence, both of them searching the other's eyes. Finally, she broke the eye contact first, absent-mindedly readjusting her dress.

"Is that all you came here for, Vegeta?" she finally asked. "To get a meal with me?"

A muscle in Vegeta's jaw twitched as he leaned forward, as much as he could while remaining sitting. He looked down at the half-eaten dinner Trunks had left behind, but his mind was elsewhere. When his silence stretched on, Bulma looked back over at him, her features softening with curiosity.

"Back then, before…all this," Vegeta started, turning his head a little to the side as he tried ignoring the images in his mind. "Any child that a soldier birthed or fathered was instantly claimed by Frieza if they showed a high enough power level at birth. If they didn't, they were executed. Either way, he ensured that you would never see the child again. I know what it does to people. I've seen it and I've also been the man to destroy families. I know well what it does."

"I know, sweetheart," she said, covering one of his hands with her own. "But it's not like that anymore."

"I've destroyed too many lives, Bulma" he quietly admitted, still avoiding eye contact with her. "I have no idea how many survivors are out there in the universe right now, who would come to this planet in a heartbeat if they knew I was here. You and the boy are by default instant targets, just for being in my life. The boy was a mistake-"

"Hey now," Bulma started defensively, and he raised his free hand up to clarify.

"I meant that we never planned for him, not that I regret my son. But to willingly bring another child into the world…" he shook his head, struggling to wrap his head around the thought. "One is hard enough," he ground out.

"I hear what you're saying, but you're always here. We're safe with you, Vegeta, and you're doing great with Trunks. Besides, since Buu, everything's been peaceful. No crazy psycho aliens to be seen."

"Except the one across from you," he dryly commented, finally looking up to see her roll her eyes.

"Oh, stop, you know what I mean."

"Hn."

"Thank you though, for your honesty," she genuinely told him. Vegeta nodded curtly. "Can I tell you how I feel about it?"

"Get on with it already," the prince grumbled, slowly straightening up in his seat as he instinctively squared his shoulders. He pulled his hand away from hers, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited. Bulma dabbed the napkin at the corner of her lips, careful not to smear her lipstick.

"I've been thinking about this, and the first thing that comes to mind is Trunks. Even before he asked for a sibling, I thought it'd be nice for him to have one. I know when I was a kid, before I met Goku and the gang, it was always just me. It would've been nice to have a sibling, you know?"

Vegeta shook his head, frowning as he found himself unable to relate, but he remained silent, prompting Bulma to continue.

"Another thing, is that I won't be able to have kids forever. At a certain point, I'll be too old, and that'll be that. When that time hits, even if you changed your mind, there wouldn't be anything I could do about it, unless you wanted to adopt."

"I definitely did not go over that with the boy in our talk yesterday."

"That's alright, we'll keep talking to him. Though it doesn't seem he was all too impressed with your banana apple smashing."

"I didn't mean for the goddamn banana to break."

"Spoken like a true man."

"Bah, whatever. At least he doesn't think you buy infants now."

"Oh, and that's the last thing."

Vegeta looked at his wife warily. "You want to _buy_ a child?"

Bulma blinked. "What? No!" she laughed. "What do I look like, someone who helps child trafficking?"

Vegeta shook his head, keeping to himself that he had no idea what child trafficking was, unless she meant having children direct traffic. He made a mental note to do a search online for that later.

"What I meant was, with Trunks…you missed a lot, Vegeta." The prince nodded in acceptance, looking down. Bulma's look softened as she was reminded of her son. "Hey, I don't resent you for that. I never have. But I do have to admit, doing it again, with you by my side the whole time…it'd be pretty nice."

"So you want another child then."

"I wouldn't say it's a definite yes, but I think it'd be really nice. I'm open to it."

Vegeta nodded again, and the silence they fell into was much more comfortable this time as they both considered what the other had said.

The prince looked up when a server went past him, catching his eye. He gestured towards himself and Bulma, ordering, "Two of your best martinis."

"Yes, sir, right away," the server said with a polite nod, walking off as he took mental note of the drinks. Bulma gave her husband a smile.

"So? What are your thoughts?"

Vegeta drummed his fingers against the table, frowning as he watched a martini be placed in front of him. He reached up and plucked out an olive, tossing it in his mouth.

"I'm not saying yes…but…I'm not saying no either," Vegeta finally relented, unable to deny that the thought of getting another chance to be there for another child right from the very beginning wasn't too awful, all things considering.

"Who knows, if we actually did it, we might get a daughter this time around," Bulma teased, giving him a wink.

 _A daughter._ The thought alone had Vegeta immediately reaching for his drink.

"Let's hope not, for the child's sake."

"Please, if we ever had a daughter, she'd have you wrapped around her little finger."

"Whatever," he growled, making her laugh.

"Happy Valentine's Day?" Bulma offered, raising her glass to him. Vegeta rolled his eyes, but humored her and raised his in return, before downing his entire martini in one shot.

 _Another child,_ he mused, tasting the words and actually contemplating them, this time considering not just his opinions on the matter, but also his wife's.

He found that the words didn't sound too bad after all.


	6. Coming to Light

With Bulma Briefs and the Prince of all Saiyans as his parents, it was a surprise to no one that Trunks was impatient by nature. Bulma often joked that the boy had been impatient even in the womb, having arrived on the scene weeks ahead of his scheduled delivery. Still, if there was ever a time for patience, it was definitely during the most important week of the year for Trunks:

His birthday week.

The week had finally come again, and Trunks was pacing back and forth in his room, trying to calm down from his excitement. He had learned from experience that it was always best to let his parents bring up the topic of his birthday; they were much more receptive to hear his ideas and do as he wanted, if he let them bring it up first. The year of his ninth birthday, Trunks had hounded his parents about his birthday day in and day out for weeks leading up to the big day, nonstop, constantly, until his parents snapped. At their wits end, Bulma and Vegeta had finally threatened to throw out all of his video games and force the boy to spend his ninth birthday in the most brutal training session of his life, respectively, if he asked about his birthday one more time. Although the threats never came to fruition and he got everything he wanted for his birthday that year, the message had been clear: his impatience would never quite match that of his parents.

But it was a new year now. He was older, wiser, taller, almost an official teenager now. Most importantly, Trunks knew how his parents worked, and if history was any indication, the topic of his birthday would come up that day. When it did, he would be ready and would calmly state what he wanted. If he stayed out of trouble for the week, he'd be sure to get it. After all, money was no issue and he knew it.

Trunks nodded at his reflection, smirking with determination. He was wearing a nice shirt that morning for school, his mother's favorite shirt for him. A few extra points surely wouldn't hurt, especially with his request for this year. Satisfied with his appearance, Trunks finally headed downstairs for breakfast.

To his surprise though, only his father was at the kitchen table. The prince was sitting in his usual seat, features set in concentration, his morning mug of coffee in one hand. His other hand was preoccupied with a touchscreen tablet that was laid on the table in front of him, his fingers swiping at the screen every few seconds as he scrolled through something.

"Hey Dad, good morning," Trunks greeted cheerfully. Vegeta grunted in acknowledgement, raising his mug for a sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving what he was reading.

"Your mother left breakfast," he gruffly announced.

"She left her tablet too, huh?"

"So it seems," Vegeta muttered, unimpressed with the gadget, having seen much better from Bulma alone, to say nothing about the technology he'd been exposed to in space. Still, it did beat a newspaper. He would likely have to keep it and have Bulma get herself another one.

"Does she need it? I can return it to her, if she does," Trunks volunteered. Vegeta's eyes shot up at the rare offer, one eyebrow going up in curiosity. His curiosity turned into suspicion when he saw the sheepish grin his son gave him, but it only took him a few moments to put two and two together.

"You want something," he knowingly said, pushing the tablet away from him. He then leaned back against his chair, bringing his mug up for another sip while his eyes scrutinized his son. After a few seconds, Vegeta lowered his mug, eyes narrowed. "And your 12th birthday is in exactly seven days, so it's likely to do with that. You want to get into my good graces so I'll comply with your request. Am I correct?"

"Uhhhh…yeah, I guess," Trunks conceded, blinking a bit. Had his father read his mind? No, he couldn't have. Trunks' control over his telepathy had increased drastically over the last year-

"I didn't read your mind," Vegeta commented, startling Trunks. At the look of shock on the boy's face, the prince snorted in mild amusement. "You're transparent, just like your mother. Let's just get on with it. What do you want for next week?"

Trunks bit the bottom of his lip, wondering what tactic to take. He thought this would be easier going through Bulma. Yes, perhaps that was still a good plan; he already knew his father's answer to his question anyway. Looking as nonchalant as possible, he gave a careless shrug, turning towards the impressive breakfast spread laid out for him and his father.

"Ah, you know, whatever you guys wanna get me is fine," Trunks casually said, taking a plate and rapidly starting to fill it.

"I _won't_ ask you again, boy," Vegeta tersely replied. Trunks froze for a second, his plate only half-filled. His mind raced, and then he spun back around to face his father, his words spilling out before he could stop himself.

"I was gonna ask if I could get a huge new TV for my room cause the color on my TV isn't looking as good these days and also I want to get Goten a TV cause he doesn't have one but I don't want to give him mine cause of the colors, and-" Trunks voice cracked, but he took a deep breath and continued on,"and I want the newest virtual playstation that just came out that'd be SO MUCH FUN, and also Videl's pregnant and Goten's gonna be an uncle and I was wondering if you and Mom could maybe, you know, get me a little brother maybe." Trunks took another deep breath, and then finished with an enormous smile that worked on his mother 8 times out of 10.

Unfortunately, Vegeta's facial expression hadn't changed during his son's entire spiel. Even now that Trunks was done, the prince merely stared at the boy with his stoic gaze, and the boy stared back expectantly. Several moments passed before Vegeta grunted, and stood up, lifting his mug of coffee and the tablet with him.

"Eat your breakfast, boy," he ordered. "Kakarot's devil spawn will be here momentarily, and he will undoubtedly eat the food your mother set aside for you. And _do not_ be late for school, or I will never hear the end of it from your mother and in turn, I will pound you into the dirt. Understand?"

Trunks' face fell as Vegeta turned to head out. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To put your scatterbrained mother's computer device back in its place, and then to begin my morning training session. The same thing I do every morning, Trunks," Vegeta drawled while heading into the living room, as though stating the obvious.

"But Dad, what about what I asked for?" Trunks borderline whined.

"Your requests have been noted. I will pass them along to your mother."

Trunks' smile instantly spread over his face, and he couldn't resist chasing after his father. "You mean you're not saying no? To _any_ of them? Even the one about a baby brother?!"

Vegeta paused, and turned just enough to level his son with a cold glare of warning. The boy instantly took a step back, raising his hands innocently even though he couldn't get rid of his smile.

"Right, right, it's been noted. I'll just go eat my breakfast then! Have a good day, Dad!"

Vegeta absent-mindedly grunted, turning and walking away. Trunks resisted the urge to holler in happiness as he spun around and ran back into the kitchen. He instantly picked up his plate, overloaded it in a second, and then sat down to eat with gusto.

It turned out to be good timing for the prince, since he narrowly avoided having to see Goten that morning. Even though he could begrudgingly admit that the boy was starting to grow on him, when he and Trunks were together, they were barely tolerable. Vegeta found this to be especially true when he hadn't finished his morning coffee.

Hours later, and all was well with the world. Bulma was at work, Trunks and Goten were at school, and Vegeta was working up a sweat in his afternoon training session. He was trying his best to focus on his routine, but he was distracted by the conversation with his son that morning. It was the first request for a sibling that Trunks had made in some months, but more importantly, it was the first time he hadn't immediately shot the request down, much to his own surprise. After all, little had changed. He and Bulma hadn't actually decided on trying again and still used their normal birth control. The topic hadn't been revisited in a long time. They both knew where each other stood: she was open to the idea, he didn't despise it, and they had left it at that.

He stopped midway through his pushups. The prince shifted over so he was sitting in the middle of the gravity room, forcing his heavy breathing to slow down as he shot a glance at the gravity reading. 600 times Earth's gravity. Vegeta lowered his head and ran one hand up through his sweaty hair. He was half-tempted to call it a day and enjoy a rare afternoon off to work through his thoughts, when there was a sharp knocking at the door. The prince rose to his feet in one smooth motion, going over to turn off the gravity. As soon as he did, the lights lifted and the door opened.

"And here I was enjoying peace and quiet for a change," he sneered, crossing his arms as he heard his wife walk in behind him.

"Oh, shut up, I forgot my tablet and you didn't even bother bringing it to me at work, jerk."

"Hn. I don't know what you are talking about."

"Oh yeah? Then I guess it was Trunks watching graphic videos about lions mauling humans first thing in the morning?"

"Nothing like beginning the day with quality entertainment," Vegeta drawled, smirking with morbid amusement. He jumped in surprise when he felt a hard pinch on his behind. "Woman!" he growled, finally whirling around to face a very smug looking Bulma.

"Sorry, couldn't help it. Your butt looks cute in that spandex," she teased, giving him a wink as she lowered her shades back down over her eyes. "Now that I finally have your attention though, did you ask Trunks what he wanted for his birthday?"

Vegeta grunted, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. "The boy wants a television box for himself and for Kakarot's second spawn. He also requested some new virtual game nonsense."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Alright, that shouldn't be bad. We should be able to get both in an hour, tops. We'll definitely have it done before he gets back from school," Bulma planned out loud, taking out her cell phone to check her schedule as her husband scoffed.

"What the hell do you mean, _we_? I got the intel you wanted. You handle it, woman," he ordered, turning back towards the console in the middle of the room as lowering his arms to his sides. As soon as he did, Bulma took hold of one of his hands. He frowned, eyeing her out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh come on, Vegeta, don't be difficult. It'll move faster if we go together. I got an afternoon off, and I'd like to enjoy it with my handsome husband," Bulma informed him, leaning in close enough to kiss him by his ear. The prince rolled his eyes, but did nothing to pull away as she whispered in his ear, "My very sexy husband."

Vegeta snorted, but when he finally turned to face her again, his stoic expression had lost its usual hard edge. His dark eyes were still as intense as ever though as they settled right on hers. Bulma met his hard gaze with a warm, inviting smile.

"I do not know how I've let you live this long," he grumbled. Bulma's smile grew until it was dazzling.

"Because I'm gorgeous and brilliant and you love me?" she playfully asked, unable to keep from appreciating the view of his body in front of him. The heat he was still giving off from his training session was delicious.

He noticed her roaming eyes, and was quick to return the favor. She was still in her lab coat from work, but underneath that she was wearing a very snug black tube top that left little to his imagination. The best part though was her short blue skirt that showed off just enough of her smooth thighs. Oh, how easily he could disintegrate her clothing…

"You are utterly insufferable," he growled, sounding legitimately angry to anyone who didn't know him as well as the woman before him did. But she recognized that edge in his voice.

Bulma was about to respond, when he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her right up against him. She opened her mouth in surprise as he tossed her shades aside, but any words on her tongue died in Vegeta's mouth as he forcefully took charge. His kiss was dominant, and so were the hands holding her firmly against his hot, bare skin. The rough feel of his fingers conveyed his underlying need, slipping inside her coat and under the back of her top, brushing against her soft skin-

"Vegeta," she breathed, making his heart pound. His name never had and never would sound better than the times Bulma said it like that. Her coat was off in fractions of a second, his mouth moving from her lips to her neck as he continued tasting her skin as though it was the first time. She leaned her head back, her arms going around his neck as though to brace herself against his onslaught, licking her lips when she felt the hard erection pressing against her. "You're so sweaty, and…I'm gonna need…a shower…we're on a schedule…" she groaned, half in desire and half in protest.

"You're already sweating, woman," Vegeta chuckled against her skin. He pulled back though, and slightly dazed, she met his hot gaze. With an arrogance that could only come with royalty, he cocked an eyebrow and flashed her an infuriating smirk. "Or would you rather wait until another time?"

Bulma moved her hands to his shoulders, and then down his bare chest, to his abs. Without breaking their intense, challenging eye contact, she returned his smirk with a smug one of her own as she caught the top of his spandex shorts between two fingers, sliding his shorts down as far as she could.

"I didn't say stop," she whispered against his lips, her hand wrapping around his hot erection. "Now aren't you glad that you've left me alive?"

"Hn. You serve your purpose, I suppose."

"Is that right?" Bulma dangerously asked.

Her grip tightened painfully hard on him, purposely digging her nails into his sensitive flesh. A surprised hiss of pain escaped him through his teeth, followed by a low moan that he couldn't bite down as he closed his eyes in surrender. Taking advantage of literally having the mighty Prince of Saiyans right in the palm of her hand, Bulma instantly seized his lips with hers with a passionate kiss Vegeta eagerly returned, relishing in that taste she still hadn't tired of.

His chest rumbled with a low growl when she pulled away from their kiss moments later.

"I _suppose_ you serve your purpose too, jackass."

Vegeta snorted, his features easing into a brief, rare, and genuine smile. He had her backed up against the wall an instant later, her clothes sliding off her skin in pieces from a flash of his ki she never even saw. He easily hoisted her up against him, her nails digging into his shoulders, her legs wrapping around him, her name lost in an urgent breath between their lips.

It was not the break he had in mind, but he wasn't going to complain.

* * *

Bulma lit a cigarette on her balcony a couple hours later, taking a slow draw before exhaling in satisfaction. She could just barely make out the water running as her husband showered in their private bathroom, and she hoped she had left him enough hot water after her own shower. Tempting as it'd been to shower together, they'd had their share of fun for the afternoon, and then some. After all, they had a schedule to keep, and they were already running late. But at least she was dressed again, in her snug dark blue dress that easily cost over five thousand. There was no way in hell that she was letting her husband destroy _this_ gorgeous dress.

When she finally heard the water stop running and the door open, she glanced over her shoulder to sneak a peek at the dripping wet, naked Saiyan prince. Vegeta flashed his ki, dissipating the water off his body before he disappeared into their enormous walk-in closet. Bulma turned and put out her cigarette in an ashtray on the rail, then headed back into their bedroom.

"Are you dressed yet?" she asked, right as Vegeta stepped out. The prince pulled down a black, long-sleeved shirt down over his head, and Bulma's nose crinkled when she saw that he was also wearing black jeans. "Geez. Going to a funeral?"

"My wife's, in fact," he snidely responded, going over to take a seat on their bed.

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Alright. So all he asked for was a TV and that new virtual gaming system that just came out?"

Vegeta grunted, keeping his eyes on his boots as he laced them up. When he didn't hear anything else from his wife, he glanced up to find her staring incredulously at him.

"What now?" he demanded.

"Was that all he asked for?" she demanded, matching his tone.

They both stared at each other for several long moments, before Vegeta exhaled slowly through his nose. He looked back down, a muscle in his jaw flexing as he resumed tying up his boots, this time tighter than before.

"He made another request for a sibling. A brother, to be precise," he admitted.

Bulma quietly sighed. She went over and took a seat next to him, smoothing her dress over her thighs. He finished lacing his boots, and then settled his gaze directly on the wall in front of him, his features set in a hard frown.

"Were you going to tell me?" she calmly asked.

"I just did."

"We haven't talked about it in a while. Have you given any more thought to it?"

"Have you?" Vegeta countered, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as he turned his head to her. Bulma shrugged, and couldn't hide the little smile on her face. The prince closed his eyes and inwardly groaned, turning his head back so he was facing the wall. "You're not open to another child anymore. You outright want one, don't you?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. You're transparent," he grumbled. "Everyone in this damn family is."

"Well, what do you think, hon?" Bulma asked, nudging his shoulder with hers. Vegeta reached up with one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He sighed, and it seemed to Bulma that hours had passed before he finally responded.

"I think the idea of actually planning and wanting this child…and doing it differently…has an appeal," he begrudgingly admitted.

"You didn't want me?"

Vegeta and Bulma both looked over in shock to see their son standing in the doorway to their bedroom, his bookbag slung over one shoulder. The prince stood up, floored that the boy had actually managed to sneak up on him without him noticing. But when he saw the look of hurt, anger, and disbelief on Trunks' face, he realized that he had bigger problems.

"Trunks…" Vegeta started, trying to say something to rid that look from his son's face. That was a look that he knew all too well, having worn it many times as a boy. To see it on Trunks now left him searching for words that would not come.

"Is it true, Mom?" Trunks demanded, his voice cracking and dropping as he shifted his suddenly intense gaze to Bulma as she approached him.

"Trunks, sweetie, I'm so sorry that you heard that. Your dad just meant that you were a nice surprise we hadn't planned on, that's all," Bulma soothingly informed him, pulling her son into a hug. Trunks allowed the embrace for a moment before looking back at his father expectantly.

"Dad? Is that what you meant?" he asked, unable to keep the hope out of his voice.

Father and son stared at each other for some long moments. The prince knew that one word here, and he would diffuse the whole situation. Unfortunately, Vegeta felt a heavy weight on his shoulders when he realized, like he had moments ago with Bulma, that he could not face his son and outright lie to the boy. And even if he could find it in him to do so, it would only postpone the inevitable. The truth would come out sooner or later, he had known that from the moment he realized he had a son, and he had done his best to push that moment back ever since.

Finally, he decided he'd pushed it back long enough.

"Trunks, you and I need to talk," Vegeta finally said, drawing Bulma's attention. They made brief eye contact, and she already knew. She visibly winced, and hugged Trunks a little tighter, as though trying to preserve his innocence a moment longer.

"Vegeta, why don't you wait until after his birthday?" Bulma suggested, knowing before the sentence was out that it was for naught, yet unable to stop herself from asking anyway. Trunks' brow furrowed in confusion as Vegeta shook his head. The prince then he walked past them, his posture the most rigid Trunks had seen since their battle against Buu.

Vegeta paused just past the entryway to their bedroom, looking over his shoulder at his son. "Be outside in the back, in one minute, boy."

Trunks watched him leave, and then looked back at Bulma as she let him go, not bothering to hide his confusion. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, honey, not at all," Bulma sighed, ruffling his hair. Trunks was scowling, and he looked so much like his father at that moment that it brought a fleeting smile to her face. Her son had grown; he was almost at her shoulder now in height, and his voice was changing. She reached down to his chin, raising his head so they were making eye contact. "Make sure you listen to your father. Let him finish, and don't interrupt. Just listen. Okay?"

Trunks nodded, giving his mother a small smile before venturing off after his father. Vegeta was waiting for him outside in the back, his head back as he gazed up at the afternoon sky, his eyes hard in concentration. When Trunks stepped out, Vegeta gave him a brief glance, before looking ahead.

"Not here. Follow me."

Trunks didn't get the chance to respond before Vegeta's ki ignited around him, then the prince was gone. Never one to be left behind, Trunks immediately followed suit. His dad hadn't ascended, keeping up with Vegeta's pace was still pushing his limits. Ever since the ordeal with Buu, Vegeta had eased up significantly on forcing Trunks to train, as though he could recognize his son's exhaustion after his first real taste of battle. Without his father's pressure to keep up, Trunks had gradually slacked off, and it had been at least a good year since he had truly tested his superhuman strength and speed. But seeing Vegeta's effortless speed now, and realizing he could barely keep up without ascending, Trunks realized he was sorely out of practice.

Finally, to Trunks' relief, they stopped. Vegeta silently dropped down onto a mountain ridge. Trunks landed right behind him, nearly losing his balance when the rocks under his feet gave way. He quickly found his footing, gazing over the scenery. There was no one nearby he could sense, and with good reason. They were in a valley with endless plateaus, and only some stubborn green shrubs sporadically growing in defiance of the intense heat. The air was dry, and he could already feel the sweat breaking out on his skin.

"So, uh, you wanted to talk?" Trunks asked warily, gazing up at his father.

Vegeta was on higher ground, and had his back to his son while he scanned the familiar surroundings and played out an old battle in his head that he had never forgotten. He leaned his head back, breathing in, only to find that the air still tasted the same even after all these years. Still, he would have preferred to relive that defeat than face the boy behind him. He'd known this day would come, but he hadn't planned it; hell, even them being there was the result of an impulsive decision. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what Trunks would say. The boy was raised differently; he was raised better. Nothing might change, or everything could change. The prince was a man who liked to know exactly what was going to happen, and at what time. He hadn't felt this type of uncertainty in some years, and he hesitated.

But it was only momentary. After all, the Prince of Saiyans was no coward. He was going to tell his son the truth, and he would accept whatever happened afterwards.

"This is where I fought Kakarot and his weakling friends when I first came to Earth," Vegeta remarked, practically feeling Trunks' surprise behind him. He turned enough to look back at his son, who was looking around with wide eyes.

"It's a pretty good place for a fight," Trunks admitted, and Vegeta raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"You've heard about it."

"A little, yeah. I heard that it was a good, tough sporting fight," Trunks announced proudly.

"Oh, and who told you that?"

"Goku did, when Goten and I asked. He said you were pretty tough!"

"Hn." Vegeta paused for a moment, frowning as he looked off to the side. "What else did he tell you?"

"That was it, that you guys fought at first but then you helped save everyone on Namek," Trunks answered with a shrug.

"What else?"

"Uh…I dunno," he said, scowling as he brushed his now-sweaty hair out of his eyes. "I think that's it."

Vegeta grunted and turned away again. He lapsed into a silence that seemed to stretch on for decades in Trunks' mind, but the boy bit down his impatience. He had learned the hard way over the years not to interrupt his father when he fell into these types of heavy silences. More than that though, he could feel a difference in Vegeta's ki. It was strumming low, and he could see how hard Vegeta's hands were gripped.

"Trunks, what I said earlier was true," Vegeta finally informed him, making Trunks' face scrunch up in confusion. The prince turned to face his son directly, his gruff voice making his words even more blunt. "Your mother might try to sugarcoat it, but I think you're old enough now to handle the truth. When I met your mother, I did not want children. I had never wanted children. You were not planned, and I…reacted poorly when I found out I had a son."

"Oh," Trunks softly said, forcing himself to swallow.

"You are not a mistake, Trunks. You're my son. If we still had a throne, you would be a worthy heir. Don't ever think otherwise," Vegeta clarified. Trunks breathed out, his shoulders relaxing, and he nodded. His father continued, "But I was a different man then. The only reason I even came to this planet was to get the Dragonballs. I wanted immortality so I could rule for all time. I would have done anything and killed anyone who got in my way."

Trunks suddenly felt cold as he mulled over his father's words. He studied Vegeta's eyes, seeing no trace of a lie. Sure, his father often threatened him and his mother, but they were half-hearted words, and after growing up with it, Trunks had never considered that his father was capable of following through. After all, Vegeta was one of the "good guys". He had saved the planet, Trunks had seen it himself. But there was a coldness to his father that he was seeing now that he'd never seen before.

"You've killed before," he realized.

Vegeta's gaze was hard. "You already knew that, Trunks. The incident with Buu. Remember?"

"Yeah, but that's cause you were possessed…" Trunks' voice trailed off as he studied his father for confirmation.

"I let it happen," the prince bluntly told him. "But the whole reason I was even targeted was because of my old nature. Son, that wasn't the first time I killed. I worked for an intergalactic tyrant named Frieza, for almost my entire life prior to coming to Earth. He ruled with an iron fist, and his tyranny did not end until Kakarot defeated him. Many were killed during his reign, many at my hands."

Vegeta forced himself to keep steady when he saw the flash of different emotions over his son's face. Surprise, a flash of disappointment, some wariness. Trunks cleared his throat.

"Were they bad? Is that why you did it?" he asked, his blue eyes still filled with hope. Vegeta took in the boy in front of him, the boy soon to become a teenager, and then a man. Time had slipped by, and how he wished he could preserve the boy's innocence. But the truth needed to be known.

"No," Vegeta finally answered. This time he couldn't quite keep his expression neutral, letting a fracture of regret creep through. His mouth felt dry, but he forced himself to continue. "There were a handful I killed, who did deserve to die. But the rest were innocent. Men, women…children. I spared no one. Most killings were done in mass, and were assigned to me. I couldn't have backed out even if I wanted to. But I won't lie to you, Trunks. Not every death at my hands was from an order. There were many who I killed, because I wanted to. The rush of power, the thrill of hunting down the next kill, I enjoyed it. And I was very good at it."

Vegeta's blunt admission struck Trunks like a punch to the chest. He desperately studied his father, hoping it was a lie, and just some kind of morbid test of fortitude. But when he saw nothing but cold truth in Vegeta's dark eyes, something inside of him broke. The boy took a step back away from his father, and then looked away, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"Mom knows," he stated weakly, not quite asking. Vegeta nodded. "Does everyone else know?"

"Everyone except you, Goten, and Marron."

"Gohan?"

Vegeta snorted. "Of course Gohan knows. I nearly killed him during the battle right here."

"It wasn't a sporting battle."

"No, that's just what was told to you and Goten. But it was not a sporting battle; it was life or death. If I would have won that fight, I would have killed everyone on this planet and you would not be here."

There was silence for a long time as father and son didn't move. Vegeta was trying hard to read the boy in front of him, but it seemed that his training had paid off well. Trunks was completely unreadable, his face neutral while he kept his ki strong and steady.

His voice, however, was not steady when he asked, "How many?"

"Too many to count."

"Then guess!" Trunks angrily shouted as he whirled back to face his father. Vegeta let the disrespect slide, instead taking a deep breath.

"Trunks, there are over seven billion people on this planet, so if I wiped this planet clean of life, that would be seven billion lives. But I purged hundreds of planets of life. If there was ever a count, I lost it a long time ago…Trunks," Vegeta started, taking a step forward when he saw the tears of red-hot rage in his son's eyes. "I was-"

"I don't care! You were worse than Buu and that Cell guy everyone talks about! You're worse than anyone that's ever threatened our planet!" Trunks borderline screamed, his voice cracking and dropping. He stopped in frustration that he couldn't control the ups and downs of his voice, and he stifled back his tears.

Once upon a time, Vegeta would have laughed and taken pride in the boy's words. But he nodded, accepting the words and his son's anger.

"I thought you were good," Trunks finally exhaled, now looking both disgusted and disappointed. "I know you're not like Goku, but I thought…I thought you were just as good as him, but you're not. It's like…it's like…it's like I don't know you at all."

"Trunks, this was a long time ago. I'm still your father-"

"Yeah well I wish you weren't!" Trunks snapped, the anger burning in his eyes again as his voice kept rising, his lip curling up in rage, "You're a monster, and I wished you had stayed dead when you died with Buu!"

Vegeta's eye twitched, but he said nothing. Nor did he make a move to stop his son when the boy's ki ignited around him, before he took off in the air. He knew instantly that Trunks was headed towards Goku's house. An effort to get comfort from friends, or an effort to rile up the troops to take the evil Saiyan Prince out? Vegeta reckoned the boy would be more successful with the former.

When the boy was out of sight, Vegeta let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. The prince lowered himself so he was sitting on the rocks, raising one knee. He stayed there for a long time.

Same location, another painful defeat.

* * *

Dinner that night was quiet. Bulma eyed her husband carefully while he ate, but he had been tight lipped since he got home, only telling her that the boy was at Kakarot's and would be home later. No matter how much she had prodded him, no matter how many tactics she used to get him to say more, Vegeta didn't say another word about his talk with their son. It was another reminder that when the man made up his mind about something, _truly_ made up his mind, nothing could sway him otherwise – not even her.

Still, the fact that it was dark out and Trunks was still not home yet, and the fact that Vegeta was still on his first plate while she had already served herself seconds, told her everything she needed to know.

"I'll give him until tonight," Bulma finally announced when the silence became unbearable. Frowning, Vegeta looked up. "If he's not home by 10, I'm calling Chi-Chi to have Goku teleport his butt back home."

"You'll do no such thing," he said, his voice sounding tired. "Let the boy stay there until he is ready to return."

Bulma sighed, getting up to put her plate away for her bots to clean. Here she had ordered enough food to feed a hundred grown human men, to have enough for herself, her Saiyan husband, and their growing hybrid son. At least they were going to have leftovers. It was a small consolation.

When she came back, Vegeta was staring down at his plate. He was holding his utensils in both hands, but he had barely eaten a quarter of the food she had laid in front of him. His eyes were distant, and she recognized that look on his face all too well.

He blinked, brought out of it when he felt her arms wrapping around him tightly from behind. She was bent over, leaning against him as she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Remember what I told you when he was a baby. I won't let him hate you," Bulma whispered in his ear. "Your old life is in the past, and you're not the same man. I'll help him see that, even if it takes a little bit of time. He's stubborn, you know, since he _is_ our kid. But Trunks loves you, and everything will be alright."

Vegeta frowned and didn't react for several seconds. Finally though, he leaned back against her, exhaling through his nose as he did.

"And you want to bring another child into this mess?" he grumbled.

"Um, excuse me. We are not a mess, we're a family, get it right, mister."

"What's the difference?" he snidely asked.

"Don't be so pessimistic, hon. Besides, kid #2 isn't even here yet."

"You mean _potential_ kid #2."

"Right, well, we'll tell potential kid #2 together, how does that sound?"

"Oh, it sounds fantastic, now I'm really looking forward to it," he deadpanned. Bulma lightly smacked his chest as she pulled away from him, resting her hands on his shoulders while he reached for his glass of water.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, we'll handle the potential one later. Right now, we should focus on already-here kid #1," she informed him, looking at the enormous glass clock in their dining room. "It's getting late. You sure you don't want me to call?"

"Yes, just leave the boy for now," he gruffly told her, pushing his plate away as he stood up. "Give him at least one day before you call."

"You're not gonna finish your dinner?" Bulma asked, biting her lip a little as she eyed his food. Rare were the times when her husband didn't devour all of his dinner with his insatiable appetite. Oblivious to her concern, Vegeta waved it off with indifference as he made his way towards the living room.

"I'm going to change, then I'm going to train. Don't wait up," he called back, already heading upstairs. Bulma sighed again, looking back at the clock. One day so cooler heads would prevail. She'd grant Trunks one day, and not a minute more.

Meanwhile, a very sweaty Goku was happily carrying about twenty perfectly-balanced enormous logs over one shoulder as he trekked home, navigating through the woods. He could have easily used his Instant Transmission, but the evening was hot and he enjoyed the physical work. With the peace the planet had fallen into, he always took any opportunity for a physical workout that he could get.

Barefoot and only in his red gi pants, the Saiyan was whistling happily, wondering whether he was going to have a grandson or a granddaughter, when Trunks suddenly dropped down in front of him out of nowhere. With a surprised yelp, Goku dropped the logs and promptly fell backwards, landing sitting down.

"Ahhh, so _that's_ what it feels like when I use my Instant Transmission to drop in on someone else," he chuckled, scratching the back of his head as he grinned. "Good job, Trunks. You should tell your dad that you managed to scare me, I'm sure he'd get a kick out of that."

"How can you talk like that about him, when you know what he's done?" Trunks demanded, his jaw set tightly and his fists clenched hard. His whole posture was tense, and he looked for all intents and purposes like he was ready for a fight.

Goku looked perplexed for a moment, and then realization dawned on him. He patiently smiled, nodding in understanding as he got back up on his feet, patting at his pants a bit to get the dirt off his hands.

"I guess Vegeta finally told ya, huh?" Goku asked as he began to pick up the dropped logs to hoist up over his shoulder.

Trunks leaned forward, putting his hands on his waist as he yelled, "Yeah, he did, even though apparently EVERYONE knew about it and no one told me!"

"It was no one's place to tell you except for your dad. If you're old enough that Vegeta thought you could handle it, then you're old enough to understand that, right?"

Trunks exhaled sharply through his nose, scowling as he angrily crossed his arms over his chest. Goku looked away as he smiled a little and picked up another log. The kid was definitely Bulma and Vegeta's, that was for sure.

"How come you let him get away with it?"

"Whattaya mean, Trunks?"

"I mean, you're the only one strong enough in the whole world to beat him, so why didn't you?"

"Hm, well, I've already beaten your dad. Once with some help, but I think I won the second fight too actually, since he used a cheap shot at the end…and our current spar count is…well I don't remember, but I do have 3 wins on him, so there's that," Goku pondered out loud. Suddenly remembering his audience, Goku shot Trunks a sheepish look, forcing an innocent chuckle as he gathered up all the logs onto his shoulder. "Don't tell him I said that though, he'll be madder than a hornet and I can't fight him tonight, Chi-Chi would have my head!"

"I'm SERIOUS, stop messing around! You had him beat when he first got to Earth, you had him, and you didn't finish it!" Trunks snapped, lowering his arms. "Why did you let him go?"

Goku paused for a moment. He exhaled, dropped all the logs again on the grassy ground, and then turned to face Trunks directly, his gaze curious.

"Trunks, are you asking me why I didn't kill your dad when he first came to Earth?" Goku slowly asked.

"Yeah! I mean, don't you know what he's done?" Trunks demanded, wondering why no one was taking such news seriously.

"I know everything Vegeta's ever done, and everything that's ever been done to him. I saw it all when we did Fusion a few years ago," Goku answered, his voice and expression suddenly serious. The Fusion had been worth it for the combined gain in strength, experience, and battle strategy from the two seasoned warriors, but he hadn't counted on the intensity of being able to see into Vegeta's mind and his memories.

"So you didn't know back then?"

"Well I didn't know _everything_ back then, but I did get the idea. Your dad didn't exactly make it a secret, the things he was willing to do to get what he wanted."

"Then why did you still let him go?"

Goku raised an eyebrow. "You would have preferred that I had killed him?"

"I-" Trunks blinked at the question, and visibly flustered, yelled, "No! I didn't say that! I just…"

"You want to know what I saw in him?" Goku gently asked. Trunks frowned, unclenching his fists. He buried them in his jean pockets, and nodded. "Well, gee, Trunks. Well for starters, there weren't many Saiyans left, I didn't want to dwindle us down more! But also, it's the same thing I saw in Piccolo, and Tien. They weren't on the same level as Vegeta, of course, but still, I saw good there. That's all it was. I saw good in your dad. Your mom did too."

"Tch, what good? He killed so many people on so many planets! He doesn't even know how many!"

"I know. And he'll pay for that one day. Everyone has to answer for what they've done."

Trunks' anger gave way to confusion as he blinked. "He'll pay?" he asked warily.

"Yep, he knows it too. So does Bulma. Vegeta will pay by losing what he loves most. You and Bulma. He won't go where we go when we die, and he'll likely spend an eternity alone. That would be his kindest fate."

"Oh," Trunks softly replied, unable to stop the regret that flared up as he remembered the last thing he'd said to his dad. He forced himself to swallow.

"I know it's kinda tough to take in all at once. But what he told you doesn't change the last 12 years that he's been your dad, does it? Heck, if you had asked Gohan about eight years ago, he would've said Vegeta was a better dad than me!"

"Tch! Whatever."

"It's true. I mean, man, Vegeta's been more a father figure to Goten than I have, I'm still trying to play catch-up for time I missed with Goten," he explained, with a bittersweet smile. "Still, Trunks. Vegeta's a good guy now. He sacrificed his life for you and your mom, he helped save this planet, and he's doing the best he can with you and your mom. I know he's got his hands full with both of you!" Goku chuckled, ruffling Trunks' hair. "I've made some mistakes, Trunks, but asking Krillin to spare your dad's life wasn't one of them. Besides, if I'd done that, you wouldn't be here, and who would be Goten's best friend?"

"Yeah, I guess," Trunks muttered, staring at the ground as he absently brushed at his nose.

"You know, I met this teenager once when you were a baby, and he really would've loved to be in your position. He didn't get to know his dad at all until he was already 18."

"Hn. I bet his dad wasn't like mine though."

Goku smiled. "You'd be surprised. In any case, it's a bit late, isn't it? You should start heading home. Your mom is probably wondering where you are. Your dad too. Besides, your birthday is coming up soon, right? I think that's what Goten said, and I'd make a bet you're going to get everything you want this year."

"Pssh, yeah, right," Trunks snorted, watching as Goku started picking up the logs again. He instantly started picking up some too, figuring he could help before he headed back home. "I asked for a little brother, and I mean, I would even settle for a little sister at this rate! But I'm sure I'm never ever getting one, ever," he grumbled in defeat.

Goku laughed, as they headed to his house together. "Never say never."

About an hour later, Vegeta was still awake and working up a hard sweat in the gravity room. He was training ascended at his maximum, panting as he worked in 650 times Earth's gravity. The entire time, he inwardly cursed himself as he tried to keep a familiar sense of self-loathing from rising. It was a struggle. His past was branded in his blood; he couldn't separate from what he had done any more than he could separate from his own skin. Trunks was his son, his only child, and the boy deserved to know who he was. For better or worse, he deserved the truth. And if that truth wound up costing him one of the only relationships that mattered to him, then so be it. There was no one to blame but himself.

Vegeta felt Trunks before he heard him. He froze, and then glanced back over his shoulder at the door as it opened. The gravity instantly disengaged, and the prince turned as his son stepped in. The boy was wearing a look in his eyes, of fearless determination; it was the same look the teenaged future version of his son had worn, day in and day out when they had trained together before the Cell games. Vegeta recognized it again now, and he gave Trunks his full attention.

The boy breathed in slowly, drawing up his nerve, not breaking eye contact from his father as he exhaled.

"You don't do any of that anymore, right?" he demanded. "None of that killing, not anymore, right?"

"Right."

"You regret it?"

"There was no way to avoid all of it, Trunks…but…I certainly should have minimized some damage," Vegeta relented. Trunks nodded, eyeing the scars on his father's torso as though for the first time.

"Frieza did that to you?"

"He gave me most of them, yes," Vegeta replied, stepping towards his son. He gestured vaguely towards a few scars by his ribs as he stood in front of the boy. "These and a few others are from battle."

Trunks studied some of the deep scars, knowing that he himself had never been scarred from the training or the battles he engaged in during the Buu fiasco. Their Saiyan skin healed so well; he had never thought of it, and only now realized how hard his father must have been struck to leave such permanent marks on his body. The pain had gone, but the memories must have still lingered.

Father and son gazed at each other for several long moments, before the boy admitted, "I talked to Goku."

"I know."

Trunks blinked. "How did you know?"

"There are only two individuals who know me well enough to handle your questions, and that's your mother and Kakarot. I know you haven't been home, so it was obvious."

"He said that when you die, you won't be with us," Trunks admitted, his voice unsteady. It was only after he had tasted and voiced the words, that he realized how badly he didn't want that to happen. He had already lost his dad once, he didn't want to lose him again.

"It's very likely."

"You knew that?"

"I've died twice already, Trunks. The good in my life will never outweigh the bad, so neither time was pleasant. The third time won't be either."

"Speaking of…" the boy awkwardly shifted his weight, suddenly looking down. "About what I said earlier-"

"Already forgotten."

"It's just…you've done so many bad things," Trunks quietly said, still staring at the floor.

"I know, son," Vegeta replied, just as quietly. "I know."

"You would never hurt me and Mom, right?"

"Never," Vegeta answered with so much conviction, it left no doubt. Reaching out, he put a hand on Trunks' shoulder, giving a firm squeeze. "Nothing will happen to either of you, not by my hand or anyone else's, as long as I breathe. I give you my word, and I break my word for no one."

They lapsed into another silence, before Trunks looked up and ventured, "I finally snuck up on you today, y'know."

For the first time since that afternoon, Vegeta's features eased. "I know. You did well," he proudly informed his son.

"I know it's late and all, but ah, do you think maybe we could have a spar? It's been a really long time. I'm kinda rusty."

Vegeta smirked a little, giving a short nod. "Just don't tell your mother."

Things wouldn't be mended overnight between them, but Vegeta figured a late-night spar between father and son was more than a decent start.


	7. Starting the Process

If Bulma had thought things would go back to normal overnight, she was quickly realizing just how wrong she'd been.

Family meals had always been the highlights of her days. After her husband and son would temper their insatiable Saiyan appetites, they would open up and converse about their day. Well, she and Trunks would still carry most of the conversation, but depending on his mood, sometimes Vegeta would participate. Regardless, the prince would normally stay through most of the conversation, and that had always been enough for his wife and his son.

Now with the brutal truth out in the open though, things had changed. Their family meals together were now short, and their conversations were awkward, stilted, and usually only carried by her alone. No matter how much she prodded Trunks, she could hardly ever get more than a few words out of him when Vegeta was in the same room. Months had now passed since his birthday, but Trunks' and Vegeta's relationship was still rocky at best.

It was uncharacteristic of her son. Trunks was usually like her, more eager to move on and make things right, than dwell and brood for so long, which was more up his father's alley. But Vegeta insisted that she leave him alone, to let him come to terms with the truth in his own time.

It was asking a lot. Bulma Briefs was not a patient woman, but she recognized that this was between father and son, so she did her best to stay out of it.

But she also hadn't expected it to last this long. Halloween had nearly arrived, and things were still awkward, much to her chagrin. After some deliberation, she decided it was time to take action. While she couldn't outright fix their relationship, she could at least nudge her favorite two men in the right direction.

Trunks was sitting at the desk in his room, in Superman boxers and an old Capsule Corp tank top, fully engaged with the game he was playing on the brand new laptop he had gotten on his birthday. He was scowling in concentration, the volume up so high on his headphones that he did not hear his mother come in. Nonetheless, he sensed that she was there, and he reached up with one hand and shifted his headphones off one ear.

"What is it? I'm busy," he informed her, his blue eyes never leaving the screen of his laptop.

Bulma sucked at her teeth a little bit, forcing herself to stay patient, but she couldn't keep the edge completely out of her voice. "Good morning to you too. Can you give that thing a rest for one minute so I can talk to you, Trunks? You shouldn't even be playing this early in the morning."

Trunks dramatically sighed, pausing his game. He moved his headphones so they were around the back of his neck, and he spun in his chair to face his mother. He looked at her expectantly.

"You know what week it is, right?"

"Last week of October," Trunks answered, already sounding bored.

"Yep, almost Halloween."

"Oh? I didn't notice," Trunks deadpanned. "Thanks for letting me know," he added, turning back to his laptop, raising his headphones up so they were covering his ears again as he resumed his game.

Trunks got all of two seconds back into his game before Bulma ripped the headphones off, making him yelp. Just as fast, Bulma had closed the laptop, effectively putting his laptop to sleep.

" _Mom_!" Trunks cried out angrily. "You ruined my game and now-"

"I. _Do not._ Care," Bulma interrupted, leaning in closer until she was right in his face. Trunks leaned back as much as he could against his leather seat, his resolve melting under his mother's intimidating gaze. "I'm trying to be patient, Trunks, but if you're rude to me one more time I will donate every last electronic device you have to charity. You got it, buster?"

Trunks swallowed and quickly nodded.

"Good." Bulma leaned back, moving Trunks' laptop aside and tossing his headphones on his desk. She easily hoisted herself up on his desk, crossing her legs before surveying his bedroom. Her voice was softer when she spoke again. "You've been mad at your dad for some time now. Do you want to talk about it?"

Trunks frowned and averted his eyes, staring off at a poster in his room. "I'm not mad."

"No?"

"Well, I'm a little mad," he corrected himself, his blue eyes shifting back to meet his mother's as his frown deepened. "You never told me," he accused.

Bulma breathed out, and nodded. "I know. It wasn't my conversation to have with you, kiddo, but, I am sorry. I know how much you look up to your dad."

"Tch," Trunks crossed his arms, looking away again. "Well, I'm not that mad anymore…like, I get it. I get why he did what he did, I think. But…" he paused, brow furrowing in thought, lapsing into silence.

"But?"

"I don't know, I guess it's like he's someone else now."

"He's not. He's still the same person he was before you knew. He's still your dad."

He snorted. "Yeah, and he's also a killer."

"Not anymore."

"That doesn't make it better though, does it?"

"Of course not. No one is saying that. But people do change. And believe me, your dad is not the same guy he was when I first met him," she laughed humorlessly. Trunks looked back at his mother, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He hesitated for a moment, making her sigh. "Just say what you want to say, Trunks."

"Well, I've kinda gotten bits and pieces of stuff that happened before I was born, and then on Namek, and no one's given me the full story…" he looked at her expectantly.

"Why don't you ask your dad for the full story?"

"Cause he would gloss over a lot of stuff."

Bulma thought it over. "Yeah, that's probably true," she relented. She knew quite a bit about her husband, but there was a vast dark sea of his past that he never spoke about, even when asked directly. She wasn't sure if he'd be more receptive with Trunks asking instead of her, but she didn't like the odds regardless. "Well, how about this? I'll tell you everything that happened up until you can remember, filling in all the holes for you. In return, you be nice to your dad today and hang out with him a little while."

"We hang out," Trunks challenged, stubbornly pursing his lips. "We've sparred like, twice or whatever in the last few weeks."

"So over the last few weeks, the only real interaction you've had with your dad is to fight him? And only twice at that?"

"It's a Saiyan thing," he muttered half-heartedly, shrugging. In actuality, fighting was a tremendous outlet. He supposed he didn't get _that_ from his mother's side though.

"Well, how about you do the human thing today and not fight your dad. How about you guys go pick up candy for the Halloween trick or treaters? Maybe get yourself and your dad costumes too?"

Trunks guffawed. "Dad _hates_ shopping."

Bulma smiled. "Try him."

"Eh, alright, I'll ask." He shrugged, not enthused but not fully opposed either. "But! I want to know everything," he said, sitting up straight in his seat in anticipation. "Tell me everything, Mom, and don't leave anything out. Please," he added when he saw the look he got.

Bulma nodded, taking a deep breath. "Alright, I'll tell you as much as I can. Gee…where to start?" she breathed out, leaning her head back as she looked up at the ceiling, drumming her fingernails on his desk. "Man, so much as happened. I guess it all started when Raditz came to Earth…"

A couple hours later, Vegeta was shutting down the gravity after his training session. After all, it was time to eat, and he was nothing if not meticulous when it came to schedules. Vegeta wiped the sweat off his face and his bare chest with a towel as he stepped out of the gravity room into the backyard of the compound, before sighing in defeat.

He knew the boy was in the kitchen before the gravity room door even closed behind him. His son was barely speaking to him these days, and while he would have wished for the silence once upon a time (the boy had inherited his mother's ability to speak nonstop), he was now left at a loss. He had known this would be difficult, but he was not equipped to smooth things over with the boy. The best he could do was give Trunks the distance he needed to process things in his own time.

Vegeta entered the kitchen, intent on doing just that. Trunks was pouring himself a glass of orange juice when he entered but the prince didn't even glance at the boy as he walked in, intent on heading upstairs to shower before his meal.

Trunks lowered the container of juice on the counter, not looking at his father as he called out, "Hey, Dad?"

"Hn?" Vegeta paused, looking back at his son, his hard gaze unreadable. Trunks turned so he was leaning back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. Father and son stared at each other for some long moments, but it was finally Trunks who looked down first.

"You want to go out with me after lunch? Maybe…go shopping and get some candy and costumes, just me and you?" Trunks hesitantly asked. "You know, for Halloween…" his voice trailed, and he shuffled his feet a bit. His eyes were still down as he wondered when it had become so hard to talk to his dad.

It was all Vegeta could do to keep the surprise off his face. The only times the boy had spoken to him recently was to train with him; though he suspected Trunks just wanted to hit him, he humored the boy each time. This request was different entirely. As much as he despised shopping the way the humans insisted on doing it, he nodded in acceptance. If this was the price to pay for his son's company, he would gladly pay.

"Fine. We'll eat first, then we'll go," Vegeta gruffly informed his son.

The prince left, heading upstairs towards his bedroom and completely missing the shocked look on Trunks' face. The boy had been certain his father would turn him down. Trunks blinked, then turned back to the counter, picking up his glass of juice and chugging it all down in one shot. All the while, he remembered everything his mother had told him. It would take some time to accept the complete picture, but he was grateful to finally know, and many things about his father suddenly made _so_ much more sense.

And if he was being honest with himself, the idea of going out with his dad that day wasn't _too_ terrible…

Moments later, Vegeta entered his bedroom, frowning in disgust at the mess on his bed. Clothes, gift wrapping paper, tape, glue, and at the head of it all, one flustered woman folding a shirt that looked far too small for an adult.

"What the hell are you doing now, woman?" he asked as he headed over to their closet to get a fresh towel.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Bulma snorted, not even looking up at her husband as she put a pile of baby clothes on top of a sheet of shiny pink and blue wrapping paper. "I'm going by Chi-Chi's for Videl's surprise baby shower. I got her baby some cute outfits!"

"Hn," he grunted, coming up next to her. He scowled as he looked down at one of the gifts, reading aloud, " _From Bulma, Vegeta, and Trunks._ Tch. The child is not even out of the womb, and it is already being coddled. I fear for the future of the Saiyan race."

"Right. Because Gohan and Videl should just send their baby off to the wilderness to grow up there."

"Precisely."

She sighed. "Look, buddy, if you're just gonna stand here, make yourself useful and help me wrap some of these clothes. If not, go take a shower. You stink. Plus, Trunks is probably waiting for you."

His eyes narrowed. "What did you say to the boy anyway?"

Bulma looked up, making eye contact with her husband. "Nothing that wasn't true. I just filled in some gaps that you left out."

"Damn woman, I told you to stay out of it," he growled.

"I know, and I tried, but it's been so long now and this thing between you and Trunks is driving me nuts! I figured the kid needed a different perspective. Besides, you didn't even give him the whole story."

"I gave the boy enough. If he wanted more, he should have asked for more."

"Maybe he would have, if he'd thought you'd actually give him more," she chided. A muscle in Vegeta's jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. Bulma sighed, putting down the gifts she was preparing as she walked over to her husband. "Hon, he's getting older," she said, her voice softer. "He's going to have questions that only you can answer, but if he doesn't think you will, then he'll go to someone else. And I'm not just talking about your past, I'm talking about him just growing up. He's almost a teenager, he has to be comfortable talking to his dad."

He scowled, looking down at their hands. Somewhere in her words, she had laced her fingers with his. He exhaled slowly through his nose while he ran his thumb along the soft skin of her hand, his answer in his touch. Bulma responded by tightening the grip on his hand.

"I hate shopping," he finally grumbled.

"Mm, but you agreed when he asked," she said with a knowing smile.

Vegeta looked up at that. "How did you know?"

"Because he's your son." Bulma leaned in close enough to give him a light kiss, before smirking against his lips. "And I'm a genius," she whispered teasingly, damn near making him smile. She then pulled away from him, going back to her task at hand. "Now go shower, before you make these new clothes start to stink too."

The prince rolled his eyes, before heading towards the bathroom. When he was at the door, he looked back, intending to ask if she was going to be home Halloween night. If she wasn't, like hell he was going to give any candy away to children.

However, he paused, the words stilling in his throat as he observed his wife. Bulma had her back to him, but it was clear she had stopped wrapping the baby clothes. He frowned, and was about to speak when he finally realized that she was holding one of the infant shirts. He couldn't see the look on her face, and if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The talks of another child had died down after everything with Trunks, but now with Videl's pregnancy underway, he occasionally caught a look in her eyes that was a hint of sadness sometimes, longing other times. He didn't want to know which one she was wearing now. Feeling absurdly guilty, he turned and silently disappeared into the bathroom.

Being a warrior was nowhere near as difficult as being a husband and a father.

* * *

 _I'm here for my son,_ he kept repeating to himself in a silent mantra a couple hours later. _I'm here for my son._

Still, his affection for the boy was one thing. This was another. Vegeta was trying not to cringe with disgust as he navigated around frantic parents with loud children, all trying to pick a decent Halloween costume. He exhaled through his nose in rising fury when a plastic pumpkin candy carrier with a black handle fell on his head, bouncing off his hair, the result of some boisterous children behind him.

"Oh sorry," one very tall, happy-go-lucky, oblivious father told the enraged prince. "I didn't see ya down here, lil buddy," he joked, patting Vegeta hard on the back.

"It's alright mister," Trunks nervously said, grabbing his father's arm and pulling the Saiyan away, using more than a little of his superhuman strength. "I didn't think it'd be so packed here," he admitted to his father, once he was sure that his dad wasn't going to deep fry any human because of a plastic pumpkin.

"It's fine," Vegeta forced himself to say, even as he was grinding his teeth. "Get the candy first. We'll go somewhere else for your costume."

"Well, fortunately, there's still lots of candy," Trunks said in relief, as they walked over a few aisles. "This is a bit last minute. Usually Mom and I do this way earlier."

"Everyone's been distracted lately."

"Yeah…I know," Trunks relented. They fell into an awkward silence for a few moments, before he turned into the candy aisle. "Alright! Here it is. What do you think we should get?"

"All of it."

Trunks' head whirled around to his father, astonished. "Dad, seriously? Mom and I usually only get a few bags full of candy."

"I'm not your mother, boy," Vegeta gruffly informed him.

Trunks scratched the top of his head for a few seconds. "Well…can I get what's left over after the trick or treaters?" the twelve-year-old asked with a sheepish smile.

"You can have 30 percent of what is leftover. The rest is mine. I'll give your mother some of the chocolate as well, since the woman cannot breathe without it."

"30 percent?" Trunks whined. "I want 50!"

Vegeta scowled, and for a brief moment, remembered a toddler trying to negotiate with him over some pancakes. It was only that memory that made him say, "40 percent."

"45!"

"42."

"Deal," Trunks agreed with a smile.

The boy then turned back to look at the enormous amount of candy still available, licking his lips as he did. Vegeta took out a capsule while his son cleared the entire aisle of all the candy, making a huge pile right on the floor. One click of a capsule later, and it was all in a capsule. Vegeta tucked it into his pocket, then took out $100,000 and put it in Trunks' hand.

"That should suffice to reimburse the store. Go take care of it," he ordered. Father and son then split in opposite directions, with the elder prince going to grab a six pack of beer while his son pocketed $50 for himself.

Twenty minutes later, Vegeta was sitting outside the store on a bench, surrounded by fake cobwebs and pumpkins. The prince had a sour look on his face, a beer in hand when his son finally found him. Trunks went over and took a seat next to his father, eyeing his drink.

"Can I try some of that? Just a little?" he eagerly asked. Vegeta frowned and looked down at the drink, then looked over at his son. He only had a little bit left of his drink, so he extended the bottle to the boy.

"Just don't tell your mother," he said as Trunks took the bottle from him. "And do it fast. I don't want to deal with any self-righteous humans."

"Seriously?"

"I suggest you drink, before I change my mind."

Trunks didn't need to be told twice. He finished Vegeta's beer, gulping it down rapidly. When he stopped, he gave a hacking cough, patting his chest as his eyes watered. Vegeta smirked, patting the boy on the back.

"Not ready to drink like a man, are we, Trunks?"

"It was fine," Trunks rasped out, handing the empty bottle back to his father. Vegeta tossed it aside, sending the bottle in the air until it landed perfectly in a garbage container. "But I don't like the taste of it," Trunks admitted.

"Probably for the best," Vegeta relented, extending his arms out on either side of him, resting them on the top of the bench.

Father and son fell into another silence, but this one was comfortable. The air was crisp and cool, and they were sitting in the shade, away from the main entrance of the store. Vegeta closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the fresh air. Next to him, Trunks watched the parents walking in to buy their last-minute candy and costumes. He sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbow on his knee, and his chin in his hand.

"What was your dad like?" he finally asked. Vegeta opened his eyes and looked at the boy next to him, but Trunks was still staring away at people entering the store.

The prince bit down his initial reaction, which was to tell the boy it didn't matter. His father was dead, and that was that. But Bulma's words from earlier were fresh on his mind, and so he stayed silent a moment longer before he responded. He hadn't thought about his father in a long time, and he found it hard now to not only think about the man, but share something about him.

"I don't remember much. The last time I saw the man, I was the equivalent to about five years old, as the humans define it in this solar system." The words were harder than he imagined. Trunks was leaning forward, but he looked back over his shoulder at his father, waiting expectantly. "He told me the legends. Told me some about what was expected of me as a prince. I went on a few missions with him, near the end. Then after he handed me over to Frieza, I never saw him again. He died not long after that, trying to rescue me, to no avail. Our people were destroyed shortly afterwards."

Trunks frowned and looked forward again, thinking deeply. Minutes passed before he ventured, "Would he have liked me?"

"Liked you?" Vegeta asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Cause I'm not full Saiyan, you know."

"You're Saiyan enough, Trunks. You're stronger than I ever was at your age, and you've already ascended. The old man is likely proud beyond the afterlife, to have you in the lineage. Nothing was more respected than strength."

Trunks definitely made sure he was looking away, so his father couldn't see his brief smile. "What about your mom?"

"She was a good queen. Well respected," Vegeta said, finding the words easier now. "Likely I drove her mad as a child though. I was unruly and she disciplined me often. She was a good mother though."

"She sounds nice," Trunks said softly. Vegeta grunted in agreement as his son added, "Was _I_ unruly?"

"Tch," Vegeta scoffed. "Had me looking all over the goddamn city for you as a toddler because you snuck away once while I was asleep."

"Really?" Trunks asked, blinking in surprise as he turned back to his dad. "You did that for me?"

"Hn," the prince grunted and scowled, looking away. "I had no choice. Your mother would have melted the skin off my bones if I didn't find you."

Trunks knowingly smiled. "Yeah, I bet."

"So, what do you want to dress as this year? Best to get on with it now, before more humans decide to venture out to shop as well," Vegeta told him.

"I want to be a zombie!" Trunks happily said, jumping up to his feet. He spun back towards his father, gesturing over his body. "I want paint, on my face and hands, with fake blood! It'll be awesome!"

"A zombie?" Vegeta asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, like someone who used to be dead but isn't anymore."

"Someone like me?"

"Yeah—wait, what? No!" Trunks yelled, flustered as he waved his arms around. "You know what I mean, like in one of the movies! Someone who eats people's guts."

"That would probably taste fantastic."

" _Dad,_ " Trunks groaned dramatically. "That's so gross."

Vegeta chuckled, standing up. He pocketed his capsules with the rest of his beer and the obscene amount of candy they had purchased, and then looked back at his son.

"Alright, let's go get your costume then."

"Will you dress up too? Maybe you can be a vampire?"

Vegeta's smile vanished. "You're pushing it, boy," he growled, slowly levitating.

Then there was a flash of light, and he was gone, flying faster than the human eye could see. Trunks instantly powered up and went after him. This was always one perk about hanging out with his dad. Without Bulma there, Vegeta never opted for regular transportation, and there was something about flying like this he had missed. This time, he wasn't struggling to keep up either. He eyed his father from behind, processing everything he had learned that day from both of his parents. There were still so many questions he had. So much he still didn't know. But he had years to get the answers he wanted.

It only took a minute before they reached their destination. Vegeta abruptly dropped down in front of the Halloween costume store he knew his wife always shopped at, startling some humans who were coming out of the store. Trunks landed behind him a split-second later, and then jogged into the store after his father.

"How'd you know this is where Mom and I come to buy our costumes for Halloween?" Trunks asked as he fell into step with his father.

"You come here with your mother now that you're old enough. When you were an infant though, I was dragged along," Vegeta stated, a hint of old irritation in his voice. "Because apparently, even infants need cost-"

"Oh wow, Dad, look!" Trunks yelled, running off towards some horror-themed costume racks. Vegeta sighed, muttering under his breath that the boy was just like his mother, but he followed nonetheless. Trunks was facing him, holding up a vampire outfit. "Look! I think this would fit you. Isn't it cool?"

"Yes, very cool," Vegeta deadpanned, eyeing the black cape with deep crimson trim, white long-sleeved shirt with ruffles at the collar, and red vest. He grunted, thinking it wasn't as bad as he thought. _At least it's not the blasted outlet and plug combination the woman wanted us to dress up as, the Halloween after we were married._ There was a pack of fake blood included, and he almost smiled at the thought of actually using real blood instead.

"You would look awesome in this," Trunks informed him with a grin, his earlier discomfort with his father gone as he held up the costume to Vegeta. "I mean, Mom and I always dress up! It'd be cool if you joined us, even if it's just once."

 _The boy is getting good,_ Vegeta realized with dismay. _Either that, or I really am getting soft._

"I will take it under consideration," he grumbled in defeat, taking the costume from Trunks, giving it another once over, and finally hanging it back on the rack. "First, get your zombie outfit. It's not as crowded here yet, but likely that will change soon."

It turned out that the boy was even more like his mother than Vegeta had thought. What should have only taken minutes, was going on over two hours as the boy tried on everything that looked even remotely _cool_ or _awesome._ It didn't help that Trunks apparently always had a competition with Goten, for who had the best costume – and his son was nothing if not extremely competitive. Though perhaps, he couldn't blame Bulma entirely for that one.

The prince found himself sitting near the fitting rooms, surrounded by at least twenty different costumes that the boy was interested in. He had his head leaned back in his seat, wondering if they were going to make it back home in time for dinner, when Trunks emerged from the fitting room.

"What do you think?" he asked, putting his fists on his hips as he faced his father. Vegeta raised his head, and gave the boy a once over.

"Who are you supposed to be now?" Vegeta asked, frowning.

"Slenderman!" Trunks said, striking a pose that was more in line with Gohan's Saiyaman. "Am I scary?"

"No," Vegeta bluntly told him, making Trunks sigh as he took off his mask.

"You don't think any of these are scary!" the boy indignantly told his father, matching Vegeta's frown.

"Trunks, the day a costume scares me will be the day I cease being the Prince of All Saiyans."

"Well, maybe it'll scare some kids," Trunks said quietly to himself, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He went to put his mask back on, turning around to head back into the fitting rooms, when two smaller boys dashed right in front of him, laughing as they chased each other. Trunks paused just long enough to let the boys go, before looking after them for a moment. They were obviously brothers, and there was a look on his face that Vegeta instantly recognized. It was the same one that he sometimes caught on Bulma's face. The prince sighed.

Trunks looked back at his dad and offered him a small smile. "I think I like the Slenderman best. I'll go take it off so we can go. I'm getting hungry," he said, before disappearing back into the fitting rooms.

Vegeta stared after him in surprise. He had fully been expecting a question regarding a future sibling, but nothing came. Just like Bulma had stopped asking. It was as though they had both resolved that his answer wasn't going to change. The realization should have made him relieved. But it didn't.

The prince looked around at the other parents and children shopping for their costumes. His dark eyes finally settled on a young couple with an infant in a stroller. The child was no more than a few months old, and he found himself wondering if Bulma had come here with Trunks when the boy was that young, for his very first Halloween. He didn't know because he hadn't been there, since he was still in space training at the time. If she had gotten the boy a costume that year, he didn't know. He hadn't even seen his son that young, a fact that always made him feel guilty when he reflected back on it. It wasn't his fault, as he hadn't known the woman was pregnant when he left; in addition, Bulma never threw that missing time in his face. Still, the guilt had never fully disappeared.

"Dad?" Vegeta blinked and turned back to his son, who was back in his sports jersey and jeans. Trunks held up the Slenderman costume with a grin. "I think I want this one."

"Fine," the prince said, standing up and stretching a bit. "Let's pay for it and go home."

"Are you taking the vampire costume?" Trunks asked, doing his best puppy dog look.

Vegeta closed his eyes as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Fine," he spat out. "Go get the blasted thing."

Trunks hollered in victory, and ran off to do just that. Vegeta muttered under his breath that if he was going to wear such an outfit, he was at least going to have real blood. Perhaps he would hunt a bear Halloween night for dinner. Though he figured it was probably best that he just keep that to himself.

Later that evening, after he and Trunks had cleaned out two local pizza shops of all their ingredients to make food for the next several days, Vegeta found himself watching a gory slasher film on TV. Horror movies were always one plus that Halloween brought, aside from candy and the costumes Bulma liked to wear. Trunks was spending the night with Goten to help the younger boy put his own costume together, and Vegeta was thankful for the peace and quiet. It let him think. And the gods knew, he needed to think.

The movie was almost over when he sensed her coming home. Vegeta glanced over just in time to see his wife coming in. It was raining outside, and her hair was a darker blue than usual, even from the short walk from her hover jet. She brushed the loose strands out of her face, and then gave him a brilliant smile. That smile waned though when she saw what he was watching.

"You with your gory movies," she sighed, tossing her coat and her purse onto a small table near the door.

"You with your weak stomach that cannot handle fake blood on the television," he retorted, making her roll her eyes.

"Whatever." Bulma made her way over to him, taking a seat next to him with a sigh of relief. "Oh, I'm so tired. Where's Trunks?"

"With Goten, of course."

"Of course."

"Well, how was it?" Vegeta asked, scowling when she took the remote from his hand. She leaned into his side, and he raised his arm over the top of the sofa to give her better access.

"It was great. That kid really will be spoiled," Bulma chuckled as she started to channel surf. "But Gohan and Videl are so happy. It's very sweet."

"Hn."

"How was your day, hon? How was everything with Trunks?"

"Fine. We purchased enough candy. The boy got his costume and apparently, I got one too."

"Oh really?" Bulma laughed. "And what are you gonna be?"

"A vampire."

"Mm, you'll be sexy in a vampire costume…" she teased as she ran her hand up his thigh.

"Is that so?" he said, moving his arm over her shoulders, his fingertips moving down her arm. "And what are you going to be?"

"I don't know yet. But even if I did, I wouldn't tell ya, buddy, cause it's a surprise," she whispered in his ear. Vegeta turned his head towards her, his lips hovering over hers. It was all the invitation she needed.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, even as he maneuvered her on top of him so she was straddling him. The TV was soon forgotten as she helped him pull off his tank top. They both deftly removed her blouse shortly afterwards, tossing it aside. Vegeta sat up straight as she ran her fingers through his hair, clutching her close to him with one hand, his other hand going to unhook her bra. That too disappeared into the darkness of the room.

"Vegeta," Bulma breathed as he reclined back against the sofa, pulling her with him, relishing in the feel of her soft skin against his tough skin. He ran one hand down her back, tracing the curve of her spine. He would never get his fill of this firestorm of a woman, even if he had gotten his wish for immortality, it would never be enough.

When he stopped, Bulma pulled back a little, looking down at him. Her hands were on his chest, her loose, slightly wet hair framing her face.

"Vegeta?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he gruffly responded, frowning as he did. Hesitantly, he cleared his throat. "Are you still taking that crap that stops you from getting pregnant?"

Bulma looked perplexed. "Of course I am."

"If you want, you can stop taking it."

This time she pulled back almost completely, unable to hide the surprise on her face. Her hands settled on his shoulders, as if she was bracing herself on his words. She stared at him, studying his eyes closely.

"You want to try?" she asked, barely able to believe it. "Really?"

"Hn." He shrugged, breaking their eye contact to stare off at the side, studying the light patterns the TV was throwing against the wall. "Just don't expect me to get up in the night to tend to the brat when they're scream-"

"Oh, Vegeta!" Bulma cried out happily, hugging him tightly and pulling him up so he was sitting upright. The prince blinked in surprise, but he rolled his eyes and hugged her back. "Oh, this'll be so wonderful! We're going to have another baby!"

"Not yet, we're not," he reminded her, moving his hands so they were on her sides, his thumbs lightly teasing the skin under her breasts. "But, we can certainly start the process," he chuckled.

"Yes, I think we can," she said with a smile, leaning down to kiss him again as she got comfortable on his lap.

He sighed into the kiss, reclining again on the sofa. Any doubts he had, about his ability to be a decent father, about how he was going to tell the truth about his past to another child, about whether he and Bulma were ready for another child, they were all gone when he felt the sheer happiness radiating from his wife.

For tonight though, he was just going to enjoy getting the process started.


	8. Decade Strong

**A/N: So I started this fic before DB Super was a thing, so for that reason (and also because I have yet to watch it) I won't be following their storyline(s). Just an FYI! Forgive my rust, it truly has been a while, but I hope this is a fun read and that you enjoy. :)**

* * *

As it turned out, trying to conceive was a battle in its own right.

It required Vegeta keeping track of foreign things such as "ovulation" and being forced to learn more about the female body than he ever cared to know. It required Bulma having to cut her smoking habit, something Vegeta insisted on and also rigidly enforced (an easy feat with his superhuman sense of smell) which made her irritable when work got too stressful. And instead of their usually spontaneous sex life, they now had a strict calendar and a schedule, one which they sometimes couldn't even keep as she lost track of time at work and he sometimes lost track of time when he would spar with Goku. Still, they persevered and did their best. After all, it hadn't taken them very long to conceive Trunks, and that was by accident. Surely with planning, they both figured that conceiving another child would be just as straight-forward and easy.

Unfortunately, as weeks began to stretch into months, it appeared this was a battle that they were losing.

Vegeta was settled low between Bulma's legs, supporting his upper body on his left forearm which was beside her hip. He was wearing a look of determination as the tips of his fingers on his right hand just barely grazed her lower stomach, pushing up the bottom of her black tank top. Beneath his fingers, a soft blue light pulsed, feeling warm on her skin.

He scowled when he didn't feel anything at all. The only ki he sensed was Bulma's. He was certain that when focused, he would be able to sense a child with his blood – if not immediately, then fairly soon after conception. Bulma didn't quite buy that since he hadn't felt Trunks (though he insisted it was because he hadn't bothered to check), so she still went by good old-fashioned pregnancy tests. Regardless, no matter how they checked, the answer was always the same. Unfortunately, today looked to be no different.

Vegeta exhaled slowly through his nose as he removed his hand, and then withdrew from her completely. He didn't know which was worse: seeing the look of disappointment flash over her face every time they realized it hadn't happened yet, or feeling like he wasn't man enough to get his wife pregnant. Because in his masculine worldview, it was the man's job to get the woman pregnant, and it was her job to take it from there. That it hadn't happened yet, was a shot to his pride, a wound that was festering with every day that passed with no change.

Bulma sighed at the loss of his heat, and rolled over to her side, watching as Vegeta stood up to get dressed. She watched him move in silence, frowning. Their relationship was strained with their efforts, but she figured once she was pregnant that all would be right with the world, which only pushed her to try harder. Yet, despite the fact that their ten year wedding anniversary was on the horizon, and despite the fact they were having more sex than ever before outside of the whirlwind couldn't-keep-their-hands-off-each-other initial phase of their relationship, she hadn't felt so distant from her husband in a long time. It was as though the harder she pushed to have another child with him, something that should have been bringing them closer together, the further away he felt. She had tried to ignore it, focusing instead on researching tips and tricks to get pregnant, figuring the faster it happened, the sooner they could move past this phase of their relationship. She also had mistakenly thought that with Pan's birth, Vegeta would be reminded why they were trying in the first place – but her birth seemed to have had the opposite effect on the prince. He was even more withdrawn now, and she was starting to worry.

Bulma bit her bottom lip as she stared at Vegeta's back while he pulled some jeans on. _He must want this, or he would never go through with this planning,_ she reasoned to herself, sighing softly. _Still…_

"A little frustrating, huh?" she ventured, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them. Vegeta grunted as he slipped a Capsule Corp polo shirt on over his head.

"It is only a matter of time," he grumbled, pulling his shirt down and tucking it into his jeans.

"Maybe I should go back to the doctor. Just to make sure nothing outside of the ordinary is going on, you know?"

He shrugged with indifference. "You can if you want to, but you already went once before. She said you were fine."

There was silence for a moment, before she asked, "Are _we_ fine, Vegeta?"

Vegeta paused for a few seconds. Finally, he turned back to her, frowning as he tightened and fastened his belt. Outside, the sky was a soft orange as the sun and the city woke for another day. In their room, it cast a light glow past him and onto his wife who was still wrapped in their bedsheets, her short blue hair still tussled from sleep even though her eyes were alert as she gazed at him.

He had no ready answer, and the silence stretched on uncomfortably.

"Yes," he finally forced himself to say.

Bulma bit her lip again, brows furrowing. "Are you sure?"

"I don't know what you want me to say, woman," he admitted, scowling down at her. "I am trying."

"I know you are. I am too. I want to do this, but I want us to be in it together, you know?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, anger creeping into his voice. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Bulma sighed deeply, lifting herself so she was sitting up. She crossed her legs, wrapping herself up in her sheets and blankets. From her angle, she could barely make Vegeta out. He was mostly a dark silhouette in her room as the sun rose behind him.

"You just seem distant. You haven't talked to me in a few weeks."

"That is absurd. We speak often. We are speaking now."

"I mean, _really_ talked to me."

"About _what_ , Bulma?" he asked in exasperation.

"How you feel about this. Is this too much?"

Vegeta rubbed his forehead, before lowering his hand to pinch his nose as he closed his eyes. He forced himself to bite down his temper, silently counting to ten. He had underestimated how long this process of conceiving a child would take, and he also hadn't anticipated how putting expectations on an enjoyable act would take a lot of that enjoyment right out of it. He hated that being intimate with his wife now felt like a chore, a necessary little checkbox that needed to be checked off the baby making list. It had never felt like this before, but in coming to dread the disappointment that followed the act, he was dangerously close to coming to dread the act itself.

 _The gods are having their fun with me now,_ he angrily thought as he lowered his hand from his face and looked at his expectant wife that he was continuously disappointing. _Being a decent husband is a battle I was never trained for._

"It's not too much, but…" he finally started, visibly struggling to choose his words before settling on, "…perhaps, a break would do us both some good."

"A break?" she repeated worriedly. "What kind of break?"

"A break from this chaos around making another child. The schedules, the research that you do, the tips you follow…we didn't need any of this bullshit for Trunks."

"We didn't plan for Trunks."

"Maybe we don't need to plan for this one either. Maybe we should stop forcing things to happen, and instead let them happen."

"But Vegeta, things are different. I'm in my 40s now."

"What of it? You look fine, woman."

"I'm not talking about my _looks,_ I'm saying it's a little harder now for me to conceive than it was 12, 13 years ago. It might take us a bit. That's why we have the schedule, so that when I ovulate-"

"Damn female, I get it," he snapped. "I know everything now about what goes on with your body. I have your cycles memorized. I assure you, I get it," he snidely informed her.

"Well, you clearly don't," she snapped back. "Otherwise you'd understand that this is helping us-"

"We don't need a damn schedule! On my planet, things were natural and there was never an issue with breeding and reproducing-"

"Yeah, well this isn't your planet!"

She knew she had made a mistake as soon as the words were said. There may have been warm light coming in as the sun slowly rose outside, but the atmosphere in their bedroom was suddenly ice cold. She could have sworn she heard his teeth grinding as he spun on his heel and stalked towards the door. Scrambling, Bulma had to move as fast as she could to seize his arm before he left the room.

"Vegeta, I'm sorry," she said, pulling back his arm. He stopped, and turned just enough so she could see his profile. The light caught him better now, and she could see the muscle in his jaw rhythmically twitching as he glared straight ahead. Bulma sighed as she rubbed his arm. "I shouldn't have said that, I got caught up in the moment, is all. This _is_ your planet now, your home. You know that. I'm sorry."

"Hn."

"I know this is frustrating. We can take a break if that's what you want."

"Whatever."

Vegeta turned his head away, intending to leave again, when she reached up to his face and turned his head back to her. His left eye twitched as they made eye contact, both falling into silence as they studied the other's eyes. Try as he might, he couldn't hold on to his irritation – not when he was standing this close to her, not with her soft hand still on his face, not with that look in her clear blue eyes. The anger and tension in his body slowly bled out of him when she stroked her thumb against his skin.

"I need more than _whatever_ from you, hon. Do you want to keep trying? Honestly?" she asked him, her own anger gone as well. Worry creased over her face, her eyebrows drawing together. "I don't want you just doing this for me, because I'm going to need your help with two kids. So if you really don't want to do this, Vegeta-"

"Do you think I would have put up with all this bullshit for months, if I didn't want it?" he demanded, though his words had lost their heated weight. He exhaled through his nose. "Yes, initially it was for you and the boy, but I have…accepted the idea of another child. I want it now also," he admitted, surprising himself with the truth and how easily those words came.

"Then what's wrong?" He scowled and said nothing as Bulma moved her hands to his chest. "Tell me. Stop shutting me out, Vegeta." The prince shook his head, looking down and sighing.

"This…should have happened by now. I do not take kindly to failing," he finally conceded, his jaw clenched. _Failing as a man, failing as a husband,_ he bitterly added. Like every time the woman had made him admit to something painful over the years, he felt robbed of his strength. She was the only person in the universe who could make him feel so raw and vulnerable, and after over a decade of being together, he still didn't know how she did it. Nor had he gotten used to it.

"It's not on you, sweetheart. You're taking it personally, but don't, because it's not your fault. This stuff happens sometimes. But I need you with me on this, Vegeta," she said, with so much conviction that it made him look back up at her. "I need _you_."

Her pleading tone broke the last bit of prideful resistance in him. Not knowing what to say to that, he put his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, holding her close as he told her what he could never put into words. The stress left him when he felt her return his embrace. Only at that moment did he allow himself to believe that she wasn't disappointed in _him_. It would take more than that to ease the disappointment he felt in himself, but at least that was a familiar battle.

"I do need a break," he admitted, scowling. "Things are starting to feel…too routine…too…predictable."

"Predictable?" Bulma blinked, not liking how that word sounded coming from her husband. She didn't like that one bit. She pulled away from his embrace, her hands resting on his shoulders while she studied his eyes. "You think our sex life is predictable?"

 _Careful now,_ Vegeta warned himself. It took long moments before he spoke again. "I didn't say the sex was _bad_ , woman. I said, it's becoming predictable."

"Well, predictable isn't great. And we _do_ need to plan in some capacity in order for us to have another baby, Vegeta."

"Yes, but must we schedule every single time we have sex down to the position, length of time, date, and exact minute?"

She huffed defensively, blushing. "Well with my work schedule, it's hard…but…I suppose I might be overdoing it just a little bit."

"Come again?" he mockingly asked, reaching up to cup his ear. "Did you just admit out loud that you may be overdoing something?"

"Oh, shut up. Like you are one to talk," she laughed. It suddenly struck Vegeta that he couldn't remember the last time he heard Bulma laugh. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed that. He grunted and lowered his face against her neck, breathing her scent in, his hot breath against her skin giving her chills. Her heartrate started speeding up when she felt his warm hands moving up from her hips and pushing up her tank top, his rough fingers gentle on her skin. She chuckled, raising her arms up as he pulled away enough to take off her tank top. He licked his lips, pleased when her bare breasts were freed.

"You know, our anniversary is coming up," she mused out loud, earning a distracted grunt from him as he took in the naked flesh in front of him. Not that she could blame him. She _was_ still rock-star gorgeous, and she knew it. "Ten years is a big one, too. Maybe we can do something different. Go somewhere on a nice vacation and relax, just me and you. No thinking about any kids, existing or not-yet-conceived. What do you say?"

She had expected to needle him about it, but was instead pleasantly surprised when he just shrugged with indifference. "Whatever," he finally conceded. "I read somewhere that it would help our efforts if you were less stressed, so perhaps it would help our cause."

Bulma gave him a dazzling, loving smile. "Aw, aren't you sweet? Reading up on how to get your gorgeous wife pregnant?" she teased.

He growled low under his throat, his dark eyes shooting back up to meet hers. "I told you. I don't like to fail. Besides. I need some consolation for putting up with your shit for a decade."

She rolled her eyes, muttering, "Wow. For a second there, I almost forgot you were an asshole."

Vegeta snorted, before genuinely smiling, a rare, playful look dancing in his eyes. It was a look that only the woman before him could ever get out of him. It was a look that made her fall for him all over again every single time. "What can I say? I aim to please."

"Mm, so do I," she informed him in a sultry tone, deftly undoing his belt before unbuttoning his pants. Vegeta raised an eyebrow in intrigue as she slowly pulled his zipper down. He was so distracted by the sight of his wife, half-naked and illuminated by the sun rising behind her while she worked his pants, that even when he sensed it coming, he put up no defense when Bulma shoved him hard in the chest, forcing his back against the door. He smirked as she knelt down in front of him, giving him a dangerous look that made him go from half-aroused to painfully hard as she freed his erection.

"You may be onto something. After all, I wouldn't want to be _too_ predictable," she snickered, before turning her attention to the matter at hand – and _in_ hand. Vegeta leaned his head back against the door, moaning when she took him in her hot mouth. His eyes drifted closed, his fingers sliding into her hair.

Onto something, indeed.

* * *

"Fuck," Vegeta hissed under his breath days later, levitating up as he ransacked his bedroom closet for the tenth time. Bulma was at work, which was the only time he ever had to thoroughly search their bedroom. He certainly couldn't search while she was there, and he only had one more day to find what he was looking for. Their ten year wedding anniversary had almost arrived, and although he wasn't one for honoring those kinds of celebrations (a remnant of his days as a soldier where such things were unheard of, and something he still struggled to adopt and adhere to on Earth), there was one thing Vegeta always did: keep his word when it mattered to him. When he and Bulma had married, one of the things he had agreed to do, was wear his wedding ring on all future anniversaries. Up until that year, he had always done just that.

But now, he couldn't find the ring, which made no sense to him. He may have enjoyed variety in his sex life (and in his food choices), but that was the exception to his life. For everything else, the prince was a creature of habit. As such, he _knew_ without a doubt that he had left the ring in their closet the previous year. No matter how much he searched, though, he could not find it.

Vegeta scowled when he felt Trunks come into the walk-in closet behind him. The prince grunted in annoyance as he searched the top shelf in the spacious closet again.

"Hey, Dad."

"What is it, Trunks?" he peevishly demanded, not looking back at his son.

"Ah, I wanted to ask you something," Trunks bit his bottom lip, rocking on his heels a bit as he watched his father continue his search. He forced himself to straighten his back, and ignore that he was about to tread into dangerous waters. In his mind, he was almost a man now, and he had settled on quite a risky plan to get what he wanted. It was one that would only work on his father – though, it would only work if he lived through it.

"Ask then."

Before he could lose his resolve, Trunks blurted out, "Can I have a tattoo?"

Vegeta stopped searching. He closed his eyes briefly, and then levitated back to the floor before turning to face Trunks. He scowled at his son, not knowing what irritated him more: the boy's obnoxious request, or the fact that Trunks was now only a couple of inches shorter than he was. His son was in the middle of a growth spurt – while he and Bulma had spent the last however many months trying to conceive, their son had already outgrown two shoe sizes. It also seemed that every other weekend Bulma was buying him new clothes and donating the old clothes to charity. However, despite his growth and the newfound, more adolescent pitch of his voice, the boy was still a handful, a constant reminder that he would never have a harder role in life than being a father.

 _And here I am, trying to have another one of these brats,_ he snidely thought to himself as he exhaled, glaring at his son. _How the hell do I get myself into shit like this?_

"You want _what_?" he deadpanned, crossing his arms.

"I want a tattoo!" the 12-year-old exclaimed. He lifted his right arm, pulling the sleeve of his shirt up to flex his bicep. Vegeta raised an unimpressed eyebrow as Trunks grinned at him. "I want it right here, on my arm. I've seen some super cool tattoos on the internet, and-"

"No."

"But-!"

"No," Vegeta repeated, rolling his eyes. "Now get lost. I am busy."

"But, why not?" Trunks scowled at him. "Other kids-"

"I do not give a shit about other human children or their idiotic parents. I suggest you not use this argument against me. When you're a man, you can do what you want. But you won't get such ridiculous things now. And have you even asked your mother for this absurd tattoo?"

Trunks forced a sheepish chuckle. "Ah, no, not yet-"

Vegeta's stare was hard and it took all of Trunks' strength not to look away. "So, you think you are being slick, huh, boy? Coming to me instead of her – did you think you would have an easier time with me?"

"Well, ah, I came to you because I…I have a deal for you," Trunks finally said, watching surprise, and then curiosity came over his father's face. Trunks forced himself to swallow. He was not a little boy anymore; he would not be afraid.

"A deal, is it?" his father repeated. "What kind of _deal_ did you have in mind?"

"Well," Trunks chuckled, looking confident, even though there was sweat running down his back underneath his shirt. "I know I had asked for a little brother, but now, I really want a tattoo. So I thought I would give you something, if you let me have the tattoo."

"Like what?"

Trunks smirked then, a cunning look that Vegeta recognized all too well. He was more used to seeing it in the mirror than on his son's face though. "Like, maybe what you're looking for. Your wedding ring, right? I mean, your anniversary with Mom is coming up, and I know you always wear your ring. Mom would be super mad if you didn't…"

His father's dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "I _know_ you are not trying to blackmail _me,_ Trunks."

"No, no, no," Trunks chuckled, waving his hands innocently. "I was just thinking, that if you let me get a tattoo, then for starters, you will NEVER have to get me anything else for my WHOLE life!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "That's the biggest load of shit I've heard all day, but do continue," he sneered.

"Well also! I can help you find your ring."

"What makes you think I lost it?"

"You keep searching for something whenever Mom is busy, and with the anniversary coming up, I figured it must be something you lost. It must be the ring. Am I right?"

"A better question, then: how would you help me find it?"

"Because, I know where it is."

Vegeta grit his teeth, summoning up all kinds of restraint. "Well, where the hell is it then?"

"Well, do we have a deal on the tattoo?"

 _You no-good little shit,_ Vegeta marveled, anger and pride simultaneously rushing through his chest. This was truly his son standing before him. As angry as he was, he also couldn't help but acknowledge that it took some kind of bravery to confront him of all people with such a ludicrous proposal. And the proposal truly was ludicrous. _You really do think you are slick. But you have much to learn, boy._

"Fine," Vegeta relented, much to Trunks' complete shock.

"Seriously?" Trunks asked, blinking a few times. "You mean it?"

"I mean it. I will allow you to get the tattoo, and I will convince your mother to allow you, as well. Now, where is the ring?"

"Mom has it."

"What?" Vegeta asked, legitimately surprised.

"Yeah, she asked me to get it for her the other day. She wanted to take a look at it, and see how the engraved stuff looked to see if you needed a new one." Trunks grinned. "I'm sure she'll put it back where it should be by tomorrow. She probably didn't think you'd be looking for it now!"

Vegeta closed his eyes and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. That did sound like his wife, but it was still a lot of time wasted on his part. "And you were just entertained watching me search in vain, weren't you, boy?"

Trunks couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, Dad."

"Hn." The prince rolled his eyes, snatching up a fresh, clean white towel to get some training in. He pulled off his polo shirt, before tossing it against one of the closet walls. Just before it hit, a hole opened in the wall that sucked his shirt in, sending it down a chute to get immediately washed. "You are just like your mother," he grumbled.

"Hey, Mom said you guys were gonna go on a vacation or something, so that I could stay with Goten for a few days," Trunks excitedly said as he followed his father out of the closet. The prince tossed the towel over his shoulder, grunting his acknowledgment. "Where are you guys going?"

"Wherever your mother wants to go," Vegeta answered as he stepped out onto their personal balcony, with Trunks right on his heels.

"Well, can you bring me something back? Please? Like a new pair of shades, or a cool keychain, or something?"

"You are annoyingly demanding today, boy."

"Please, Dad?"

Vegeta paused for a moment, giving his son his back. It had been a long time since the boy had asked for a younger sibling, to the point where Vegeta wasn't sure where he stood on it anymore. He didn't want to ask Trunks about it, lest he open up a conversation that would raise the boy's hopes. Plus, he honestly didn't need the extra pressure. Neither did Bulma.

Still. He looked back over his shoulder at his expectant son behind him. _The woman is right. This boy needs a sibling,_ he mused silently, not for the first time. _It will help him grow up._

"I'll try," he conceded, keeping to himself exactly what he was trying to get Trunks before easily leaping over the balcony. He landed on his feet moments later, scowling when he heard Trunks yelling his thanks (along with a reminder about the tattoo).

 _And I actually want another one,_ he thought in defeat as he walked over towards the gravity chamber. Hopefully, his next son would be calm and want to train more than Trunks did.

A man could hope after all.

* * *

Bulma Briefs was a woman who wanted to satisfy her husband, in every way, and she was taking their conversation from days ago quite seriously.

She hummed happily as she entered their bedroom later that evening. She had dropped off Trunks with Goku's family so he could spend time with Goten, and then had proceeded to go buy some "fun toys" to enjoy with Vegeta. Seeing that her husband wasn't back yet from his training session, Bulma dumped her bag of "goodies" on their bed. After all, since the traditional route hadn't worked yet, maybe spicing things up a little bit would be the key. It couldn't hurt. She picked up a leather whip, raising an eyebrow in intrigue. _Well…maybe it WILL hurt, just a little._

By the time Vegeta came in through the balcony doors, Bulma had already packed her goodies into their own duffel bag, and was working on packing her primary things for their trip.

"How many bags are you going to pack this time?" he snidely asked, wiping the sweat off his face as he went around her towards the bathroom. "Ten?"

"Haha, you're funny," she sarcastically replied, sneaking a look over at him. She smiled a little when she saw that he was wearing the loose basketball shorts she had gotten him to train in, despite how much he had complained about them. "I like those shorts on you, by the way. Very sexy."

"I hate these blasted shorts," he grumbled.

"Aw, come on, hon. Gotta keep your _dragon balls_ nice and loose, keep that sperm count healthy," she teased, earning a death glare over the shoulder from her husband.

"You will need dragon balls soon to wish you back to life if you don't shut up, vulgar woman," he growled, going into their private bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him.

"Tch, what a grouch," Bulma mumbled, packing some brand new designer sandals into her bag. Her brow furrowed when she thought about her husband's words.

Vegeta was sliding the glass shower door open when Bulma suddenly barged in, startling him. He spun around, scowling at her excitement as she rushed over to him. "Can't I shower in peace, female?"

"That's it! The dragon balls!"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, "What are you on about now?"

"We can go get the dragon balls!" she excitedly informed him, grasping one of his hands. "It'll be fun, an adventure! And we can ask the dragon to help us with the baby."

"Don't be absurd," he growled, offended. "We do not need assistance. We just need more time."

"I don't doubt that, but if we could speed it up, then why not?" Bulma argued. "Besides," she added, interlacing their fingers together, "weren't you the one saying things were getting kind of predictable? Think about it, Vegeta. We can go on an adventure for our ten year anniversary! It'll be fun, and-"

"Fine. Whatever." Vegeta pulled his hand free, before turning and stepping into the shower. He slid the door shut behind him. "We can look for the dragon balls if you insist, but we will not make that wish. I will not allow shortcuts to this. You will be receptive to my seed soon enough."

Bulma rolled her eyes. She should have known. She glared at the foggy silhouette of her husband as he turned on the water to the shower. "Fine. Then what should we wish for?"

"Perhaps, that our next child be a male?"

"Vegeta! We are not going to wish for that!"

"Why not? A strong son is always a father's wish."

"You already have a strong son."

"Two strong sons are always a father's wish."

"What's wrong with having a girl?" she challenged, her tone indignant. "It might be that you wind up with a strong daughter you know!"

"Any child of mine will be strong," he relented, scowling at the thought of a daughter. He tried envisioning a little girl in their home and felt a tinge of anxiety when he realized he wouldn't know the first thing to do with a daughter. He prayed to any gods who might hear him for a second son.

"Well _I_ hope it's a girl. Then we'll have a nice even ratio around here."

"I tell you this much. If it's a male, he will be named Vegeta, after me."

"And if it's a girl, we'll name her Bra. Bra Briefs. Aw, it's cute!"

"What the fuck kind of name is that?" Vegeta cried out, sliding open the shower door to look at his wife in frustration. "Bad enough you named my first born son Trunks. I won't have you naming any daughter of mine _Bra._ "

"Mhmm. We'll see, buddy," she teased him with a wink, before strolling out of the bathroom altogether. "Don't be too long."

"Tch," he slid the glass door shut again, cursing under his breath. Now he _really_ hoped they had another son. "And don't forget to get me my damn ring back, lest I hear about you bitching that I'm not wearing it."

"Yes your majesty," she snapped, slamming the door shut behind her. Vegeta grunted, sliding the shower door closed, but even through the shower he heard her mumbling, "What a jerk. Ask him to wear a ring once a year and it's such an ordeal…"

He tuned her out, turning his face to the showerhead. _A son named Vegeta,_ he mused, unexpected emotion rising at the thought. _Or a daughter named Bra Briefs…_ that thought brought different emotions, and he swallowed heavily, brushing the hair out of his eyes. _We are getting ahead of ourselves, thinking about names, genders. We first need to conceive._

He sighed, silently committing to humor his wife on their anniversary, like he usually did, but even moreso this year. As he scrubbed himself down, his thoughts went over to his wife. Yes, by him going along with her ridiculous request for an adventure, he would please her and help her relax. That was true, and it had the potential to help their efforts.

But more than that, was the fact that the woman wanted to have another child and go through all the rigors of birthing a half-human, half-Saiyan child. She wanted _his_ child, and was willing to endure everything that went with that. The least he could do was play along, and do something to make her happy.

 _Ten years,_ he marveled, leaning his head back and letting that fact wash over him with the water. A decade ago, the night before their wedding, he wouldn't have been surprised if Bulma had come to her senses and canceled the whole thing. Now here they were, planning their anniversary, planning another child. He ran a hand down over his face, as though his touch would convince himself that this was indeed real. _Maybe, it warranted a gift?_ He had heard that gift exchanges were common during anniversaries. Bulma had always been satisfied with him just humoring her with whatever she wanted, and with him wearing his wedding band.

But maybe, just this once…

Bulma was yawning, already under the covers when Vegeta came out of the bathroom. She had debated surprising him with the toys she had bought for them, but she honestly wasn't up for it that night. They had a busy day the next day, and she wanted to get her rest for that. Tomorrow night would be different, she thought with a small smile. _Tomorrow night I'm rocking his fucking world, and then we'll see how much energy my strong prince has after that._ She giggled like a school girl even as her eyes darkened with anticipation.

She frowned though when instead of joining her in bed, Vegeta began getting dressed. Sitting up, she looked over at the digital clock by their bed.

"Where are you going?" she asked him as he pulled on some jeans. "It's late. We were going to leave early in the morning."

"I know. I'll be back before we leave," he gruffly informed her, pulling a white tank top over his head. He raised his ki while shaking his head, drying his hair instantly and letting it spring back up to normal. He turned back to his wife, a look on his face that Bulma needed another degree to learn how to read. For all their years together, for all the insight she had, sometimes, she realized she still had a lot to learn when it came to her alien husband. For a moment, she debated asking him if something was wrong, feeling that same awkwardness between them that she couldn't put her finger on.

They were both silent for a while, before Vegeta demanded, "Where is my ring? Give it to me, now."

"Oh, right," she blinked. Turning to the nightstand on her side, she pulled open the top drawer, and then tossed the ring over to her husband. He snatched it out of the air with ease.

"Don't wait up," he said, turning and heading out towards the balcony without a look back.

"Alright," Bulma sighed, laying back down. Closing her eyes, sleep did not take long to come. She trusted him, after all.

Her trust turned out to be well-founded the next morning. Although Vegeta wasn't in her bed when she woke, and although she could tell he hadn't been in the bed all night, she was put at ease when she saw that their luggage was gone. Encapsulated, no doubt. Yawning, she got up and took a nice hot shower, before getting ready in the bathroom. She picked casual wear, settling for jeans and a t-shirt; after all, she didn't know how down and dirty they were going to get looking for the dragon balls.

 _Ten years. A decade strong._ She smiled at the thought as she hummed happily to herself while heading downstairs. Today was going to be a good day, damn it. She was going to make sure of it. It had been a long time since she and Vegeta had spent an extended period of time together, alone, away from Trunks, away from her work, away from his training, away from the pressures of their daily lives. It was much needed.

She wasn't surprised to find him outside, waiting for her. The prince was leaning against her hover jet, arms crossed over his chest, staring blankly ahead. He frowned and looked back at her when she appeared. The sky was starting to change colors, and the sun would be rising soon.

Bulma went over and kissed him on the cheek. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

"Hn," he grunted, straightening a bit. "The capsules are in my pocket. How do you want to do this?"

"Mmm, let's see," she mused, looking over her hover jet. "Let's take something different today, something we don't take all the time," she told him, leading him over to their massive garage. When she raised the door and the lights came on, there were 20 different expensive sports cars lined up, along with 10 different motorcycles. She didn't drive them often, only once in a blue moon when she needed to clear her head. She walked down the front of everything, letting her fingers trail over the vehicles. "Hmm…" she breathed, as Vegeta crossed his arms again and watched her. "Oh, how about this one? I don't think I've taken this one out yet since I finished working on it."

The prince raised an eyebrow at the motorcycle she chose. The thing looked like it weighed 5 times her weight; it was a dark blue Harley that screamed speed and power. "Are you even strong enough to ride that thing?" he wondered aloud.

"Oh, sweetheart, after being with you for ten years, I can ride _anything,_ " she flirted with him as she mounted the motorcycle, making him glare at her as a light blush spread over his cheeks.

"What the hell are we going to wish for, anyway?"

"I don't know. Maybe nothing. Maybe we'll just collect them all, and hang onto them. Then if things don't pan out with us trying, we can summon the dragon and see if I can get pregnant that way."

Vegeta scowled, swallowing his masculine pride when he remembered the earlier commitment he had made to make this a good day for her. He finally grumbled, "We have to try for at least _one year_ before I even contemplate it. You hear me, woman?"

"Deal," she agreed, leaning forward to grasp the handles of her motorcycle as she looked up at him. "Do you want to try riding it?"

He shrugged, unimpressed as he looked at the motorcycle. They were mere toys compared to things he had seen in space; he would have loved having Bulma upgrade some of the vehicles he had come across on different worlds. "I'm sure it does not go fast enough for me."

"Try it," she insisted. "You might be surprised. I added customizations to this one."

Twenty minutes later, the sun was rising, and Bulma found herself kicking off the start of her wedding anniversary by getting a speeding ticket. Vegeta unfortunately held zero respect for authority figures such as police officers, and she had to intervene when he snidely told the officer who pulled them over that he could break every bone in his body with half a blink.

"My husband didn't mean that," she smiled at the officer. She was sitting behind Vegeta on the motorcycle, her hands on his sides as her fingers dug into his ribs. If he had been human, the action would have been distinctly painful, but as it was, it was just a silent warning telling the Saiyan to shut up. The prince scoffed in disdain, but took her silent message to heart as she added, "We are just excited to hit the road. Today is our wedding anniversary."

"I see," the officer standing by them said, gulping. He kept to himself that he recognized who they were, and he wanted nothing to do with the intense-looking man who was staring a hole right through him. He looked down, scribbling out the rest of the ticket. "Well, here you go. Thanks for the cooperation," he stammered out, handing Bulma the ticket. "And have a nice anniversary."

"Aw, thank you," Bulma happily said, pocketing it.

Vegeta grunted, glaring at the officer, deep down delighting when the officer visibly panicked and headed back to his car with haste. Scaring humans was always a delight. He glanced over his shoulder at his wife. "We need to eat," he gruffly informed her. "I am hungry."

Bulma faced him again, getting as close as she could to him and putting her arms around his chest while he removed the kickstand. It was only then that his left hand caught her eye. He was dutifully wearing his wedding ring, but there was something off about it. "Hey! What's this? What did you do?"

"It's nothing, woman," he mumbled as she grabbed his left hand and brought it up while she leaned over his shoulder to see it better. "I just don't much care for searching for the goddamn thing every year. And I don't appreciate the fact that it could be used to potentially blackmail me. And I-"

"Oh, wow," she breathed, slowly removing his ring, and then pulling it off altogether. In place, was a mirror image of his gold wedding ring, tattooed right onto his skin. It was simple, with his royal family crest on the "ring" on top of his hand. When she turned his hand to see his palm, she saw that her initials were on the other side of the "ring", along with the date of their marriage, ten years ago. It was a shortened version of his actual ring, which had her full name engraved on the inside, and impossible to make out unless one was up close to his hand. Still, it rendered her speechless. "Ah…you know that tattoos are permanent, right, Vegeta?" She blinked, not knowing what else to say.

"Of course I know, foolish woman," he growled, snatching his ring back. After his conversation with Trunks, and giving it more thought, he had decided it wouldn't hurt and would be better than wearing the actual thing which may interfere in a fight. Even one day a year was a risk. He wore his gloves almost exclusively during battle anyway, but even if someone saw him without gloves, the wedding rings were normal on her planet, even for men. He cleared his throat self-consciously, putting the ring back on over the tattoo and then bracing himself on the motorcycle again, legs spread. He waited, his heart pounding. He had hoped she would be pleased, but now he wasn't so sure.

His fears were put at ease when she hugged him tightly from behind. She kissed the back of his neck, nuzzling him. "You never cease to surprise me, you know."

"Hn," he grunted, relaxing into her embrace. Just as she could rob him of his strength, she was strong enough to give it right back tenfold.

"I love you."

"Tch. Damn well better. No one else will put up with your shit."

"Are you kidding me? I should get another goddamn Nobel Prize for dealing with you for ten years," she jokingly shot back. He chuckled, slowly adjusting the motorcycle to take off again, taking his time as he did.

A few moments passed when she whispered behind him, "What if we can't do this, Vegeta?"

He turned his head to the side, frowning. "Do what?"

"Have another baby."

"We will."

"But what if we can't?"

"We _will._ "

"But what _if_?" she pressed anxiously. "What if even the dragon can't help us? What if we keep trying and-"

He reached up to rub his forehead in exasperation. "Bulma-"

"I'm serious."

"Well, if we can't, then life will continue like it always does. Another child would be…" he struggled to find the right word to convey how he felt, now that he had adopted the idea and grown to want another child. He wanted the chance to be there from the beginning, and to do things better. But the emotion was stronger than he could articulate. He sighed, contemplating what she was asking him. "If it doesn't happen, it will be disappointing for a time. But, this is enough," he finally said, before looking over his shoulder at his wife, wariness in his eyes as he silently asked her if that was true for her as well.

"Yeah," she genuinely said, his words putting her at ease. She would still have him. She would still have her son. That had always been enough, and if that was as big as her family got, so be it. "Yeah, it is."

Satisfied, he turned forward, slowly inching the bike forward again. "No worries, woman. I will do my duties soon enough. Then you will have two sons willing to commit blackmail."

"Blackmail?" she asked, her nose crinkling in confusion.

"Trunks tried to blackmail me," Vegeta replied, smirking in amusement. While he himself had gotten a legitimate tattoo, thanks to his son providing the inspiration, he had also kept his end of the deal to the boy…by leaving him stickers of temporary tattoos on his bed for Trunks to discover when he came home. He just hoped they were home when Trunks discovered those, so he could see the look on the boy's face.

"What?" she cried out. "When did-"

"Don't worry about it. The boy still has much to learn…I will tell you about it when we are all back home," he chuckled. "Anyway. No more talk about children for the rest of the day, understand, woman? Now let's go get some damn food already. Better hang on."

Bulma never had a chance to respond before she had to grab onto Vegeta for dear life as he spun the motorcycle around, kicking up a vortex of dust as he floored it. Her husband prided himself on never finding a vehicle in the universe he couldn't fly or ride, and the motorcycle was no exception. With no cars out in the early morning, he was zooming now, pushing the motorcycle to its limits. If she had been with anyone else, she would have worn a helmet, but as it stood, you didn't need a helmet when you were riding with a Saiyan. Bulma couldn't help her laughter as they blasted down the highway, the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin. For the first time in a very long time, she forgot all about her worries and lived completely in the moment.

Oh yeah, this was definitely enough.


	9. An Intruder

**A/N: So I was going to update something a little more intense (i.e. In the Shadows) and while that is coming, I just really wanted to write something lighter tonight. :) I actually drafted parts of this chapter up years ago and was going to have it be the intro chapter of the post-Buu V/B relationship phase fic, while having the immediately-after-Buu chapter be a stand-alone one-shot. I am glad I changed my mind on this and just made it one big fic.**

**Also, yes, the last chapter had a couple of nods/shout-outs to Darke Angelus' work. I'm not going to fully pursue the dragon ball idea (I never was) out of respect for DA's excellent work as I don't think I can do it the same amount of justice, and also to keep this story moving along. But I did think the idea worked well here too. :)**

**Thanks much & I hope you enjoy this update.**

* * *

"I am going to kill that little shit-"

"That _little shit_ is your son," Bulma interjected, her voice weak. She was laying on her side in bed, watching her husband pace angrily in their bedroom. She had been sick for the past two days, practically living in the bathroom, and was officially taking it easy so she could get past whatever bug she had. That meant that Vegeta was entirely responsible for taking care of Trunks, and seeing as how their son had just snuck out of the compound for the second time in as many days, things were not looking promising.

"Oh, so now he's only _my_ son, is he?" Vegeta snarled, whirling to face his sick wife with accusing eyes. "That's funny, considering this is all your fault, woman."

"How's it _my_ fault that he snuck out again?" she yawned.

"You have always coddled that boy."

"You're the one that taught him how to suppress his ki. Now he's so good he can sneak out and you don't even notice. Plus, he's still mad about that tattoo stunt," she chuckled, remembering that stunt from months ago.

"Don't defend him. I am his father. You suggested grounding him for playing ball inside the house, and I did. He has no grounds to disobey me, and if he thinks otherwise, I will give him a Saiyan education," he threatened.

"I'm not defending him. I'm just saying that Trunks- oh, shit-" her stomach lurched, choking off her words.

Vegeta backed up in shock as his wife got up and charged into the bathroom with Olympic speed, scowling when he heard her vomit again. His nose twitched at the smell, but he followed her into the bathroom anyway. His scowl deepened when he saw her on her knees, barely clinging to the toilet as she continued retching. Her blue hair, darkened with sweat, was clinging to her forehead; fortunately, it was short. All in all, she made for a sad sight.

 _Oh, gods, what did I eat,_ Bulma thought miserably when she had completely emptied her stomach. Overwhelming exhaustion came over her, and just as she lost her strength, she felt strong arms close in around her. She closed her eyes as Vegeta effortlessly lifted her up into his arms.

"Don't you fucking dare die on me and leave me with that demon seed you call a son," he growled as he carried her back into their bedroom. She snorted and smiled a little as he gently laid her back down on their bed.

"I'll be fine," she sighed, opening her eyes when he sat down next to her. His eyes were intense as he scanned her over, as though he would be able to pinpoint the exact cause of her illness by sight alone. She patted one of his hands he was resting on the bed beside her. "Really."

"You've never been this ill before," he pointed out, eyes drifting to her lower stomach. He pulled his hand out from under hers, sneaking it under the loose shirt she was wearing to feel her skin. "Are you certain it's not a pregnancy?" he pressed, and she felt the familiar warmth from his ki.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. I didn't get like this with Trunks. Besides, can you sense something?" He frowned as he let his ki pulse over her skin, and shook his head. "It's probably just something bad I ate, hon. Probably at that new restaurant we tried."

"I ate plenty and didn't get ill."

"You never do. You have a titanium stomach."

"What if it's poison?" he asked, his eyes suddenly darkening. "Perhaps we should perform some tests-"

"Vegeta, stop. I'll be fine. Just go get our kid, please."

"Hn. Fine," he growled, removing his hand and standing up. She heard him mumbling, but his rough voice was already fading as she closed her eyes again.

The prince exhaled through his nose in frustration as he sat down at the end of the bed, putting on a pair of black boots. He laced them up quickly, looking over his shoulder at his wife, but she had already drifted off to sleep. He scowled and stood up, facing her, brow furrowed. Bulma didn't get sick that often, but every time she did, he was reminded how fragile humans were. He had no idea how much she could take, especially when he rarely succumbed to genuine illness. It was a distressing thought, seeing how quickly their household crumbled without his wife taking charge. Despite being a human woman, she had far more control over their son than he did.

 _Gods help me if I ever truly lose her._ He didn't know much about how long Saiyans naturally lived, vaguely remembering Nappa telling him that they usually died in battle long before they reached old age. He had always assumed he would die before her; considering he had already died twice, the odds were in his favor. Still there was always a chance that he would lose her first. The thought alone filled him with…some kind of emotion he couldn't place. It was sobering, and unpleasant. He gripped his hands into tight fists and disappeared from the room.

When he returned, he left a glass of ice water on the nightstand closest to her. Although Bulma's ki was weak compared to his own and their son's, he determined it would be fine if he left. It would especially benefit him to have Trunks back in the house by the time she woke. With that thought, he strode towards the balcony door and stepped out into the night air. He looked out towards West City, his dark eyes scanning as he searched for any signs of his son. He found none, but he found something better.

His ki ignited around him, and then he was gone.

* * *

"She's really pretty," Goten whispered, nudging Trunks in the ribs. The older boy nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving the girl before him. "Are you gonna talk to her?"

"I dunno," Trunks admitted. They were sitting on a bench outside of the biggest mall in West City, and before them was a pretty 13-year-old girl with dark black hair and striking green eyes that had both boys captivated. She was currently buying an ice cream from a street vendor, laughing with two other female friends. They all went to the same school, with the girls one year ahead of Trunks.

"Maybe you shouldn't do anything," Goten whispered, as they both watched the girls take their ice cream cones in hand. "My mom says if we talk to girls, we'll get in big trouble."

"Tch," Trunks waved that off. "Your mom won't know. Besides, I know how to talk to girls."

"You do?" 11-year-old Goten asked, eyes wide. "Really?"

"Duh," Trunks confidently replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "You just talk to them like normal, that's all. That's what my mom told me. Girls are people too. You gotta be nice to them."

"Well yeah. They might kick your butt if you aren't nice…"

"Your mom told you that?"

"She said she'd kick _my_ butt if I wasn't nice to someone," Goten confided.

Trunks nodded solemnly. "Yeah, your mom is scary."

"So is yours."

"Only when she's mad."

"You should go say something, they're leaving," Goten pointed out.

Trunks glanced over to where his friend was gesturing. Sure enough, the girls were walking down the sidewalk away from them, chatting and laughing amongst themselves as they enjoyed their ice cream cone. He froze, not knowing what to do or what to say. Gulping and not wanting to back down in front of Goten, he changed tactics.

"I know," he announced, standing up. "I'll get an ice cream too. Then we'll have something to talk about." He turned back to Goten. "Do you want one?"

"Sure!" the younger boy said, smiling. "Ice cream is great."

Trunks nodded in agreement, urgently getting change out of his pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the girls had stopped at a bus stop on the corner, sitting on a bench available there to them. He bit his bottom lip, hoping he could catch them so he could say hello. Hopefully, they would recognize him from school and want to be friends. He would become one of the most popular kids in his class if he could befriend some of the girls a year ahead of them.

"Yeah, two strawberry cones, please," he said, handing his change out to the vendor. He watched impatiently as the man produced two delicious-looking strawberry ice cream cones in short order. Grinning, Trunks grabbed them, turning back towards Goten to give his friend a cone.

His grin faded when he saw Goten sitting rigidly, his back straight and looking like he was about to get a lecture from his mother. It wasn't Chi-Chi sitting next to him on the bench though; it was Vegeta. The prince was sitting with his arms crossed over his polo shirt, glaring straight at him. Trunks gulped, forgetting all about the girls waiting for the bus. He recognized that look on his father's face, and knew he was in big trouble now.

"Ahh…" Trunks started, swallowing again. "Hi, Dad."

"You should tell your partner in crime to hide his ki if you want to remain inconspicuous," Vegeta sneered. He looked at Goten out of the corner of his eye. "Get the ice cream my son bought for you, then go home. I don't want to see you at our house, or anywhere near Trunks, for one month."

"One month!" Goten cried out. Vegeta turned his head and settled his steely, angry gaze on the boy directly, making Goten gulp. "Yup, one month, got it!"

In a blur, Goten got up, went to Trunks, snatched his ice cream cone, and then disappeared into the sky, making a beeline back home. Trunks remained where he was, chuckling nervously as he looked at his father.

"I can explain."

"Can you?" Vegeta challenged. The prince stood up, going over to his son, and taking the ice cream cone out of his hand. In two bites, he completely devoured the entire thing, much to Trunks' dismay. "That was my consolation for coming to find you. You do know what _grounded_ means, don't you?" he snidely demanded.

"Yeah, I know."

"And yet, here we are. Now what should I do with you, boy?"

Emboldened by the fact that they were out in public, Trunks rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know I was grounded and stuff and just, I was bored, alright? It's not even dark out and I wasn't gone for long! I just wanted to come out here and hang out with Goten for a little bit. And maybe make some new friends," Trunks said in exasperation, looking past his father towards the girls who were still waiting for the bus.

Vegeta dusted his hands off and followed his son's line of sight, before exhaling through his nose as he debated internally. He and Bulma disagreed on the concept of discipline; although she was not opposed to the occasional spanking when Trunks was growing up, she was more in favor of talking to the boy, especially now that he was older. Vegeta, on the other hand, preferred a heavier-handed approach. After all, the Saiyan form of discipline was physical punishment. He remembered _that_ much from his childhood; even being born into royalty had not given him a pass when he acted out in a manner unbecoming of a prince, or in a manner that displeased his parents. Nothing excessive and cruel like the punishment Frieza used to deal out, but enough to make the point.

His resort was always the backup option, and for the most part, they had a good handle on Trunks. He largely allowed Bulma to call the shots when it came to disciplining Trunks, supporting her decisions and rarely challenging her on them. However, it did not seem that her idea of grounding the boy was working. Their son was too much like him, and was growing bolder by the day in testing their authority.

With Bulma sick, it was all up to him.

"Go home, boy," he finally ordered. Distance between them would be good. It would give him the chance to think of an appropriate punishment that wouldn't traumatize the boy or have his wife angry with him when she regained her strength. "I want you to go straight to your room. We will talk about this later this evening. And if I catch you _anywhere_ that's not in your bedroom or the bathroom, you will sorely regret it. I have no more patience for you tonight. Do _not_ test me, Trunks."

Trunks rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever-"

Trunks never had the chance to see what happened. He had assumed Vegeta wouldn't put his hands on him in public, but when he suddenly found his face pressed hard against a tree miles away from the mall, he realized they were no longer in public. He gulped as he felt his father's steel forearm pinning his head against the tree. The fact that Vegeta hadn't already sent him through the tree spoke volumes. His father was holding back, a _lot._

"Last warning, kid," Vegeta snarled from behind him. "I'm tired of your smart mouth. You can choose right now to respect me and your mother when we tell you something, or you can ascend and I will beat that respect out of you."

"Fine! I'll go home!" Trunks yelled angrily, breaking free from his father's hold.

The boy brushed his face with the back of his hand, facing his father directly, fiery anger in his eyes. He choked back the words he was going to throw back at his father though when he saw that Vegeta was angrier than he was. _Much angrier._ There was a vein visibly pulsing on his temple, and a muscle was rhythmically flexing near his jaw. Trunks gulped a little.

"Go home," Vegeta barely managed to get out through clenched teeth. "Don't make me tell you again."

Trunks didn't. The boy's ki ignited around him and he took off into the air, heading back to Capsule Corp. Vegeta reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to take deep breaths and count to ten, a technique Bulma had shown him to handle his explosive temper. Once he reached ten, he settled his hands on his waist, shaking his head. His son was spoiled, which was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, he was deeply pleased the boy didn't know the hardships he had, or the ones his son's future counterpart had known. On the other hand, those hardships had made them both more appreciative of what they had.

He leaned his head back, staring up at the darkening sky, sighing again.

Being a father was certainly not for the weak.

* * *

After taking a nap, Bulma woke up feeling a little better, albeit gross. Still relatively weak, she got up and showered to clean up. That shower was what the doctor ordered. She felt refreshed, and a little rejuvenated when she emerged, towel drying her short blue hair. It was only then that she noticed the glass of water that was by the bed. She smiled, reaching down to lift the glass for a drink.

Glancing at the time, she was slipping on her bathrobe to check Trunks' room to see if he had returned, when the balcony door suddenly swung open. Startled, Bulma backed up, a shriek caught in her throat and one hand on her heart as she wondered just where the hell her guns were.

When Vegeta stepped in, though, she exhaled. She made a mental note to rig her bedroom with more security for the times her husband might not be there, before taking a deep breath to slow down her heartrate.

Which immediately sped back up when Vegeta snarled, "Someone is here."

"What?" Bulma asked, blinking as the prince stalked through their bedroom. He threw the closet door open, going into their walk-in closet, before emerging seconds later, empty-handed. Bulma swallowed nervously, glancing in the direction of their son's bedroom. "Maybe it's Trunks? Is he home?"

"Yes, he's home, in his bedroom, but it's not him," Vegeta gruffly informed her as he disappeared into their bathroom, still humid from his wife's shower. He checked the tub, checked behind the door, but found nothing. "I felt it."

"I haven't heard anything," Bulma said, peeking into the bathroom after him, her sickness suddenly forgotten.

"I will check on the boy," Vegeta stated, eyes scanning their bedroom one more time. "Stay here. You'll be safe. I won't be long. Lock the door after me."

"Okay," she agreed, doing just that when he stepped out of their room. Going back to the bed, she sat down on it, wrapping her arms around herself as she waited.

She didn't wait for more than five seconds before Vegeta kicked the door back open to their bedroom, scaring the hell out of her. The Saiyan strode back in with purpose, blue ki igniting between his fingers as he scanned the room again. Bulma bit her bottom lip, looking around the room too, but seeing nothing out of the norm.

"It's you," Vegeta finally said, drawing her attention again.

"What?" Bulma asked in confusion, a look her husband was mirroring as he stared right at her. His ki vanished as he stepped towards her, eyebrows drawn together.

"It's you," he repeated. "Your ki…your ki signature is what I sensed," he added, not bothering to hide his confusion as he slowly came up to his wife, wariness in his step. He knew Bulma's ki signature intimately well; he knew what it felt like when she slept, when she was awake, when she was angry, when they made love. This was so different that he had been convinced a stranger must have been in his home. "It comes and goes. Something that is changing how it feels."

"Uhhh…well…I don't know what to tell you." Bulma blinked, at a loss. "Except, maybe it feels different because I'm sick?"

"No." The prince came to stand before his wife, and then lowered himself to one knee before her. He raised one hand a few inches from her stomach, and then blue light lit up their dimly-lit bedroom when it sparked from his fingers, a small ki ball forming in his palm.

"Um, what are you doing?"

"There you are," he whispered, feeling a faint response to his ki. Except now that he was close enough to his wife, he could sense that it wasn't Bulma's ki responding at all. Hers was steady, a bit off with her being sick, but still recognizable to him. This was a different ki signature entirely, one that was sensitive to his ki. It could only mean one thing.

Despite himself, he smiled. He looked up at his wife, who knew just by the look on his face. The way her face lit up just then, with pure happiness, was a sight he would always remember for years to come.

"Oh my god, really?" she excitedly cried, her hands going to his shoulders. He nodded, and then grunted as she threw her arms around him, sending them both to the floor with Vegeta breaking the fall and landing on his back. "Oh my god! Oh my god! We're going to have a baby! Oh my god, Vegeta, we're-"

The prince grunted and drew her down into a heated kiss, only wanting to silence her, but unable to hide his own contentment and relief. He moved one hand to the side of her face and neck, his other arm going around her waist as she braced herself on his chest. He could feel her smile into their kiss, and it made him proud. He had finally done his duty as a husband, and given his wife the pregnancy they wanted.

 _Now I need to do my duty as a father…from the beginning._ The thought sobered him enough to break their kiss, and lean his head back on the floor as Bulma folded her hands on his chest, resting her chin on her hands.

"Can you tell what the sex of the baby is?" Bulma eagerly asked.

Vegeta closed his eyes, frowning as he concentrated. He finally shook his head. "I was able to tell Goten and Pan when things were further along. It must still be early on."

"Are you excited?"

"I will be excited if the child listens to me, unlike the other one."

"Ah, Trunks is just at that age."

"Hn."

"This is really happening, oh my goodness," Bulma beamed, leaning up so she was hovering over him again. "We are really having a baby."

"We already have one. He's not an infant, though he acts like one sometimes, but he is ours too."

"Yes, but you're gonna be there for all of it. You'll get to see the new kid be born." She fell into silence for a bit, studying her husband who still had his eyes closed. "You know, I'm going to do some research. I think some training regimen for new dads will be good for you. Maybe some sensitivity training."

Vegeta opened his eyes in surprise. "Sensitivity training?"

"Yes. Does that sound like a good idea?"

He scowled, eyes defiant. "It sounds like a load of shit."

Her blue eyes blazed as she leaned down over him so they were almost nose-to-nose. "Well, tough shit, buddy. God knows I have tried my hardest over the last ten years, but you are still a little rough around the edges. You can use a little training on how to hold a baby, and how to be more patient."

"Oh, I'm patient. Though you and Trunks enjoy trying that patience quite a bit."

"Babies are different, hon. They cry a lot more, and we'll likely be sleep-deprived, and you can't yell at a baby."

"Tch. Says who?"

Bulma closed her eyes, cracking her neck, muttering something about being too sick to deal with this shit. "Just help me back into bed, jerk."

"A jerk would never assist you," he countered, even though he did as she asked as they both got off the floor. He had never handled his wife more gently than he did then, suddenly cautious over the fact that she was carrying another life inside her. His child, of all things. It would take a little time to wrap his head around it. He scowled as he helped her lie down, before venturing, "How can we ensure it's a male?"

Bulma rolled her eyes, resting her head back. " _Pretty_ sure that's set, Vegeta."

"What if we got the dragonballs?" he pressed.

"Now you're really being a jerk," she testily informed him. "Are you that against it being a girl?"

"It was just a question," Vegeta muttered. She was still sick, and on top of that, she had a pregnancy with a human-Saiyan hybrid child to contend with; he backed down, and realized he would probably be doing a lot of that over her pregnancy. He frowned as he looked her over, "You'll need to meet with the medical professionals about this. This isn't a typical human pregnancy. You may not be sick at all, it all might just be linked to your pregnancy."

"Oh honey, don't I know it," she laughed. "I'll set all that stuff up when I feel a little better. Not my first kid, remember?"

"Speaking of…" Vegeta looked off in the direction of his son. "Should we tell him now? He will feel it soon, as I did."

"Yeah, and I don't want him thinking there's an intruder," she teased, making her husband growl. "Yeah, might as well. Call him in here," she said, adjusting her bathrobe around herself again and pulling the sheets up.

"What do you want to do about the fact that he snuck out?"

"Whatever you want. You can handle it this time."

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"If the grounding isn't working, then do what you need to do…within reason."

Vegeta nodded, and then called for their son.

Trunks didn't know what to expect when he walked into his parents' bedroom a minute later. He was a little more optimistic that his punishment would be tempered with his mother present. After glancing at his father, Trunks felt relieved when Vegeta, although stoic, didn't appear visibly angry anymore. Things were looking quite promising, indeed. His eyes settled on his mother, and he frowned when he saw that she still looked a little haggard.

"How are you feeling, Mom?" he asked, his blue eyes scanning her over in concern just like his father had done.

"I'm alright, kiddo, no worries. Your father and I wanted to talk to you about some things."

"Yeah, the sneaking out, right?" Trunks asked, glancing back at his father, who was standing back against the wall with his arms crossed. The prince stared hard at his son, who nodded to him. "The truth is that…I really just wanted to talk to this girl in the year ahead of me. She's really pretty, and I want us to be friends."

"It doesn't matter what you were doing. Being grounded means you stay home, or was that not made clear?" Vegeta demanded. Trunks ran a hand through his loose lavender hair, nodding.

"Yeah, it was."

"You are spoiled," Vegeta sneered, making the boy look down uncomfortably. "You have had everything handed to you on a platter. You have your parents and grandparents. You have friends. You have money. You have food. You live on a safe planet. You have more gadgets and toys than a thousand children combined. And you have no idea, nor any appreciation for what needed to happen for you to grow up like you have. You have no idea how hard life can be, even for someone your age. How hard it could have been for you." _How hard it WAS for you,_ he thought to himself, his thoughts going to Mirai Trunks.

"I thought you died against Buu," Trunks muttered, shifting his weight. "That wasn't easy."

"And now, here I am, alive and well…yet you keep disobeying me and disrespecting me."

"Stuff has changed…" Trunks argued, looking up and making eye contact with his father. "Like what you talked to me about."

Vegeta's eye twitched. That conversation had happened almost a year prior, but the effects still lingered. "Fair enough, boy. Things are different. Regardless, you will obey me, and you will respect me. I am your father and that hasn't changed. The same thing goes for your mother. You don't like it? Then pack your shit and move out, but you'll do it with no money or help from us. So long as you live here under this roof, you _will_ listen, and you _will_ respect us both."

Trunks flushed red in embarrassment as he stared at his shoes. His father had _never_ threatened to kick him out before. He snuck a look at his mother, as though asking for her help, but she gave him a sympathetic look. "He's right, you know. We don't ask you for much around here, Trunks. Just that you bring home good grades, and that you listen to us and respect us. You do have the grades – you're a smart kid. But if you don't listen to us, how can we trust you? We want to trust you…we _need_ to trust you."

Trunks tilted his head curiously, looking back and forth between his parents, before settling on his father. Vegeta nodded towards Bulma.

"Can you feel it?" he asked. Trunks immediately looked back at his mother, narrowing his eyes as he focused. It took him a second, and then he blinked in shock. "Whoa, yeah, I feel something a little different…are you that sick, Mom?" he worriedly asked.

Bulma laughed. "No, honey…I'm pregnant! You're getting the little sibling you wanted. Congratulations!"

Trunks' face lit up just like Bulma's had earlier. "Holy cow, seriously? You guys are serious? Oh my god! I have to tell Goten, I gotta tell every-!"

"Trunks," Vegeta sternly interrupted, drawing his son's attention. "With a new infant coming into our lives, your mother and I will have our hands full. We don't need to be chasing after two infants. That means this shit with you cannot continue. You will be 13 years old soon. It's time for you to start growing up."

"We're going to need your help, Trunks," Bulma added. "But we can't rely on you if we can't trust you."

"You can trust me," Trunks assured them, nodding as he looked between them. "I promise, I'm ready to be an older brother! I'll listen more, I swear it."

"No more sneaking out," Vegeta growled.

"No more. It's done," Trunks eagerly agreed, unable to keep the smile off his face. "So is it a boy?"

"It doesn't matter if it's a boy or it's a girl, does it?" Bulma challenged, and Trunks instantly shook his head.

"No, it doesn't. I suppose a little sister would be cool too," he said with a shrug. He tilted his head a little, before asking, "Is it too late to make sure it's a boy, though?"

Of all the questions to ask, that was the wrong one.

Two minutes later, Vegeta and Trunks were both in the boy's room, sitting on his bed. Trunks eyed his father, scratching the back of his head. "I made her kinda mad, huh?"

"She was right. You'll have a brother or a sister, it doesn't matter which," Vegeta informed his son, keeping to himself the fact that it was hearing that question twice from her husband and son that put Bulma over the edge. For his part, it wasn't that a girl was undesirable; female Saiyan warriors were legendary. It was just that the thought of having a daughter paralyzed him personally. He had a hard enough time with the boy sitting next to him. What the hell was he going to do with a girl, especially when boys and men started looking her way? He would have to purge the human male population of Earth. Vegeta grit his teeth, forcing himself to add, "Don't ask your mother anything like that again."

"I won't."

"And you'll be training with me for the next month as punishment for sneaking out. And no seeing Goten during that time."

"Alright," Trunks easily agreed, making Vegeta raise an eyebrow. He had fully been expecting an argument, and lots of whining. He was pleasantly surprised to receive neither, and nodded in approval.

"Good." He stood up, heading towards the door. "Tomorrow we'll begin when you've returned from school and done your work."

"Hey, Dad?" Trunks called out, just as Vegeta was about to leave. The prince turned back, scowling as he looked at his son expectantly. "Things _have_ changed, after that talk a while back where you told me what you'd done, but…not that much. Not everything. I just wanted you to know that."

Vegeta searched for what to say to that, but came up with a blank. He finally nodded his acceptance, and settled on, "It's late. Go to sleep, Trunks."

Moments later, he was back in his bedroom, kicking off his boots as soon as he stepped in. Having disrobed now, Bulma was on her side, watching him as he discarded his shirt and started working on his belt.

"I hope it's a girl," she admitted, half asleep. He grunted, sliding his belt off and letting his jeans drop with them. "Too much testosterone around here."

"Can't help the testosterone part," he chuckled, climbing in on the other side of the bed. Bulma turned to him, instantly wrapping her arm around his midsection, resting her head on his chest.

"The next year is going to be a ride. We'll need a baby shower…" she whispered against his skin.

"A baby shower?" he repeated, scowling at the ceiling in confusion. "Of course, we'll need to bathe the child, but won't it be too young to stand in the shower? Can infants stand after birth?"

"Uh huh," she mumbled, and he sighed when he realized she was asleep.

 _The next year is going to be a ride._ He scoffed. The next year? More like the next twenty or so. He rubbed at his eyes, wondering just what he had gotten into, when he felt that tiny rise of ki; that small difference that represented his child. To feel it already, so early on, meant the kid had potential. He smirked, feeling pride already for the boy…or for the girl. He put his arm around his wife, holding her protectively, closing his eyes and nodding off himself.

That night, he dreamt of a daughter, strawberry ice cream cones, and purging all the human men from the planet. In his sleep, he smirked.


	10. It's A Girl

Bulma smiled happily as she turned sideways to gaze at herself in the mirror, one hand covering her stomach. She was noticeably showing, and much sooner than she had with Trunks. At times like these she wished there was someone in the medical field properly equipped to help her give birth to a human-Saiyan hybrid child. As it stood, she only had her pregnancy with Trunks, and Chi-Chi's births for guidance. She was well aware that her best friend's pregnancy with Goten had gone much faster than Gohan's, with the baby coming to full term in seven months. She wondered if her own second pregnancy would follow the same pattern as well.

"Naming you after your daddy wouldn't be so bad I suppose, if you're a boy," she whispered, turning the other way to check her profile. "We could call you VJ for short. If you're a girl, would you like Bra as your name? I think that would be cute. You'll be a cute baby either way, won't you? Yes you will-"

"Talking to yourself again, female?" her husband's gruff voice interrupted as Vegeta walked into their bedroom, his morning training session complete. Bulma didn't look away from the mirror, resting her hands on her lower back.

"I was trying some names out loud," Bulma informed him. The prince grunted and went over to one of the loveseats in their spacious bedroom, sitting down heavily into it. This time, he earned his wife's full attention as she scowled at his sweaty frame. "Hey buddy, you're going to get sweat all over that leather," she chastised. "Go take a shower. You need to get ready to come with me to my doctor's appointment anyway."

Vegeta rolled his eyes, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a towel, before using it on his bare chest as he watched his wife turn her attention back to the mirror. "What the hell do you need the doctor for?" he demanded irritably. He had agreed on accompanying her more out of curiosity, but he had his doubts as to how helpful it would be. "The child is months away from being born. They won't be able to help you anyway since it's a Saiyan child you are carrying."

"Well, _I_ am not Saiyan, I'm human, so it can't hurt. Besides. We may find out the baby's sex today. Everyone says it's too early, but I'm already bigger than I was at this time with Trunks." She frowned in thought, looking back over at her husband. "Would you happen to know how long Saiyan women carried their pregnancies?"

Vegeta grunted and shook his head. "Wasn't Kakarot's second spawn born earlier than expected?"

"He was, and so was Pan. They weren't preemies though. They were born a normal size and weight…well, by our human standards."

"I'm sure it will be fine."

"I was thinking if it's a boy, we can call him VJ."

"VJ?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Vegeta Junior."

Vegeta's eye twitched. "No," he spat, no argument in his voice.

"Well, we need something to differentiate him from you," she argued, before smiling and turning back to gaze at her reflection. "But then again, it may be a girl. If so, I really like the name Bra."

Vegeta's eye twitched again. He already suspected that she was carrying a girl, but he wasn't entirely sure. As soon as he had felt Goten for the first time, when Chi-Chi was roughly as far along as Bulma was, he had known the child was male. For Videl, however, he hadn't been able to tell until the child was further along, and then came to find it was a female. It wasn't much of a sample size, but it currently only pointed in one direction.

He grunted and stood up, wiping his face again with his towel as his dark eyes swept over his wife's frame. He could see the effects of the pregnancy, and thus far, he was all in favor of them. Seeing the visible growth in her stomach, knowing she was carrying his growing child, filled it him with a deeper pride than he'd ever known. And the growth in her breasts was _definitely_ not something he was going to complain about anytime soon.

He was contemplating ravishing her – gently, since she _was_ pregnant – when she killed his mood by demanding, "Did you read the pamphlets I gave you on the Daddy Boot Camp in East City?"

His upper lip curled in disgust as he spat out, "Pregnancy must be making you insane, woman, to think that I would lower myself to attend such a stupid thing."

"Ohhhhh, well _I'm sorry,_ your highness," Bulma sarcastically replied, turning back to face him directly, her hands on her waist. "I didn't realize I was married to the freakin' baby whisperer! You could learn a thing or two there, you know."

"I told you I wasn't going. That was the end of the discussion."

"I asked you to at least look at the pamphlets 18 got me. Krillin and Gohan both went, and they said it was helpful. They both said they would recom—Vegeta!" Bulma cried when he turned away and started walking over to their private bathroom. The prince inwardly groaned when he felt her on her heels. The woman was relentless, always had been, but this was an insane idea, even for her.

"You humans always complicate everything," he sneered, feeling her right on his heels. "It does not take special training to learn how to hold and care for a child. I remember how it was with Trunks and Goten, and I see how it is now with Pan. I will be fine."

"Seeing isn't the same as doing," Bulma told him, grabbing onto his arm just as he was about to step into the bathroom. Vegeta sighed, looking down as she came to stand in front of him. "Just look at the pamphlets, will you? That's all I want. Please, hon? Will you do that for me?" she asked him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Please?" she sweetly asked again, kissing him by the nose and making him close his eyes. "I want you," she kissed him by his left eye, "-to help me-" she kissed him by his right eye, "-with our baby-"

He grunted and put his arm around her waist, pulling her close against him, ending her game and making her laugh. "You cannot coerce me into doing your bidding, foolish woman," he growled, his eyes lowering to her lips.

"I'm not trying to coerce you into _going_. I'm trying to coerce you into _thinking_ about going, stubborn Saiyan," she whispered, smirking against his lips. His lip twitched, and he fought back his smile, an easy feat when she kissed him on the mouth this time. He opened his mouth and deepened their kiss, exhaling through his nose as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He kept one hand on the small of her back, his other moving up her side and exploring her curves.

Bulma finally broke their kiss, breathless as she leaned her forehead against his. "Does that mean you'll think about it?"

The prince grunted, before frowning as he closed his eyes. He couldn't deny her like this. He had never been able to, and he was dismayed to realize he likely never would. Not when she was in his arms, not when he could feel her warmth and the warmth and ki of their child inside her, not when her scent washed away his rational thought.

He didn't respond, but he sighed in defeat, his grip on her tightening a little as he held her closer. Bulma smiled, giving him a peck on the lips.

"We have a little time before the doctor's appointment, you know, if you want some company in the shower," she flirtatiously teased, moving one nail down his firm chest, gently following a scar down his sternum. "Unless you think three is a crowd?"

The prince's frown deepened as he finally pulled back, his eyes lowering to her stomach while he asked the same question he always asked those days. "And you're _sure_ I won't hurt the child?"

"You kidding me? My kids are both tough half-Saiyans," she smugly informed him, and he snorted, stifling his laughter but unable to keep the light of pride out of his dark eyes.

"Goddamn right, woman. And don't you ever forget it."

Wrapping one arm around her waist and hooking one hand under her thigh, he easily hoisted her up against him as she wrapped her legs around him. She laughed as he carried her into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

* * *

An hour later, Vegeta was feeling more alien on the planet than he had in a long time as he accompanied Bulma through the hallway of West City Hospital. Trunks had been sick the first time Bulma had gone to visit the doctor to confirm their pregnancy, so he had stayed home to keep an eye on the boy and make sure his first-born didn't keel over. Their thirteen-year-old son was spending the day fishing with Goten and Goku that morning now that his grounding was up, so the prince was officially out of excuses.

Although if he was being fully honest with himself, he wasn't trying too hard to find excuses to back out of accompanying Bulma to this. He was curious about the ultrasound she was going to have done, and he wanted the chance to scope out the equipment and facilities where his second child would be born. In addition, the prince was making it a point to be around Bulma as much as he could be, to keep an eye on her and make sure she and their unborn child were safe. It was a trait Bulma found both endearing and irritating (especially when she was trying to work and he would constantly drop by unannounced to check on her, embarrassing her in meetings without giving a damn), but if it meant he put up little fuss about accompanying her to her medical appointments, she would endure.

Bulma reached out for her husband's hand, only to have him give her a look of disapproval before he scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"We are in the maternity wing and I'm finally showing. Doesn't take a genius to figure out you're the father. You can be a gentleman and hold your wife's hand in public, you jerk. You won't melt."

"Whatever, woman," he gruffly replied as they kept walking down the hallway. What they did behind closed doors in the privacy of their own home was one thing. He had never warmed to public displays of affection, and he doubted he ever would. The prince's scowl deepened as he surveyed the doors. "Let's just get on with it."

"Here we are," she announced, before entering a specific door, her husband close behind her.

The prince stood by his wife while she signed in at a reception desk, his dark eyes scanning the waiting room. In the corner there was a children section, with toys and books and building blocks. There were currently two toddlers playing there, and they were screeching like pterodactyls every so often out of excitement while their parents sat nearby reading newspapers. There was one older child who looked to be around 4 years old, who was bawling and screaming unintelligibly as his father tried to calm him down to no success. Vegeta sneered in disgust at the display, recalling Trunks as a rambunctious toddler and a mischievous little boy to watch over. _Now he is an annoying, rebellious adolescent._ He eyed Bulma from the side, frowning as his gaze dropped to her stomach. He only hoped his second child would be calmer than his first.

"Alright, let's go," Bulma told him, and he followed after her into the doctor's office, surveying the walls and reading some of the posters. Some of them shocked him with the detail of the birthing process; Bulma had given him reading material, but it never failed to surprise him how detailed it was. The prince poked his head in to some of the rooms, and scowled.

"Woman, this shit is archaic," he informed Bulma, who looked over her shoulder at him in exasperation. "We should go off planet, to have more advanced-"

"Hello, Bulma!" a perky female doctor with large framed glasses greeted them as they walked into her office. "Ah, you must be the father-to-be, Mr…?"

Vegeta's arms tightened across his chest, and he looked away, prompting Bulma to cut in, "This is my husband, Vegeta."

"Ah, welcome, Vegeta! I am Dr. Robinson. Please, come in, have a seat. We'll get some information for starters, and then we can go into the next room and do an ultrasound…"

Vegeta tuned out as the two women conversed, remaining standing and instead focusing on the plaques and framed degrees on the wall in the office. He read over the educational institutions, memorizing them so he could look them up online later. If they were not ranked top tier in the world, he would have Bulma go somewhere else. He hadn't been entirely joking either when he suggested going off-planet. Aside from the things that came from Capsule Corp that his family invented, he had never been impressed with Earth's technology. They could easily find better technology off-planet, with more advanced care from aliens who were used to hybrid species being born.

He glanced back at his wife out of the corner of his eye when she laughed over something. _Then again_ …he looked forward again to one of the framed degrees and frowned. Letting others know that he had a woman who was carrying his second child was far too risky. Unfortunately, it looked like he would have to deal. He sighed, and then looked back over when Bulma called to him.

He followed his wife and the doctor into another room, and then took a seat as Bulma laid down.

"It's a bit odd. The dates all seem to suggest that you're three months pregnant, but you look to be about five months pregnant…"

"It is going fast," Bulma chuckled. Vegeta stood up when the doctor pushed his wife's blouse up to expose her stomach and another technician came into the room, coming over to his wife's side.

"Perhaps the dates are wrong."

"I doubt it. My husband's…blood…is a little different," she forced a laugh.

"Ah," the doctor nodded. Bulma was a famous woman, and there were quite a few rumors about the man who was her husband. She pushed no further on the issue. "Well, we'll have a better look here soon."

"What the hell are you putting on my wife? What is that?" Vegeta threateningly demanded, as the technician started putting a gel on Bulma's skin over her abdomen. The technician and the doctor both gawked at him, with the technician gulping as Bulma just laughed.

"It's fine, hon. It doesn't hurt. They need to do this to do the ultrasound."

"Hn. Fine," Vegeta relented, crossing his arms and glaring at the suddenly-nervous technician who went back to work. His eye twitched when the technician brought out a small device he didn't recognize. He growled, "What is that? Now what are you doing?"

"Vegeta," Bulma sighed. "It's _fine_."

"It doesn't hurt. And look at that. Now we have a picture," Dr. Robinson happily informed them.

Vegeta's attention was immediately diverted to the monitor next to the bed. His anxiety over the unfamiliar technique and over Earth's technology both died when he saw their second child for the first time. It was one thing feeling the child; it was another actually seeing them.

 _That's_ my _kid,_ he marveled, easily making out the child curled up in the fetal position. _Unbelievable._

Bulma was transfixed as well, smiling at the black and white ultrasound. She looked back at her husband, and he broke his stare to match her gaze. This time when Bulma reached for his hand, he gave it to her almost absentmindedly without complaint, letting her interlace their fingers together as he looked back at the monitor.

"He does look a little further along than just a few months," the doctor noted. "We will move the due date up a tad-"

"Wait wait, did you say _he_?" Bulma cut in excitedly. "It's a boy?"

"It looks like it."

"Oh, thank the gods," Vegeta whispered, wiping at his brow with his forearm and making Bulma roll her eyes.

"Oh, wait," the doctor added, frowning as she peered at the monitor. She motioned for the gadget from the technician, and moved it over Bulma's stomach to get a different angle. "It's not a boy, it's a girl."

"What?" Bulma and Vegeta both exclaimed. They shot each other confused looks. "We're having a girl then?" Bulma eagerly tried clarifying.

"Are you certain?" Vegeta asked, brow furrowing as he looked back at the monitor. He wiped at his brow again with his forearm, suddenly sweating.

"Yes…that's not a penis…" the doctor muttered in confusion. "That's…that's…"

"A tail," Vegeta confirmed, smirking. It was small, but it was visible. Just more confirmation that it was definitely his kid.

"Oh wow, our baby girl has a tail," Bulma marveled. "Trunks didn't have one. This will definitely be different."

"A tail…" the doctor repeated, thunderstruck. Neither one of the expectant parents were prepared, and both looked shocked when the doctor passed out and collapsed to the floor, effectively ending the ultrasound exam and sending the rest of the appointment into chaos.

Half an hour later, Vegeta was waiting for his wife outside the lobby door. He was leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, arms crossed as he frowned in concentration. The prince was pleased that his offspring had a tail, but that certainly hadn't crossed his mind in some time. He would have to show the child how to control the transformation, but the child would have to be indoors whenever the full moon was out until she was old enough to handle it.

 _She. A girl. A daughter. I'm going to have a daughter._ He opened his eyes, blinking, still stunned by the news. He had suspected as much that it was a girl, but now wasn't sure what to think. How many times had he mocked Krillin when he had dressed up to play along with his little girl? Now that would be him. He swallowed, his thoughts racing as he rubbed the back of his neck.

 _What does a warrior do with his daughter?_ Besides teach her to fight, of course. Which he would. That much was a given. _No one_ would ever harm a hair on his little girl's head, not as long as he breathed. She would be a fighter, like him. Like the brave female Saiyans that he had heard so many legends about from Nappa and Raditz. She would be the best of them.

But aside from teaching her to fight…? He swallowed again.

It took another few minutes before Bulma emerged. Her eyes settled on him, and he looked over, frowning as he did. They stared at each other for a few moments in silence, before Bulma suddenly launched herself into his arms. Vegeta instinctively steadied her as she hugged him tightly.

"Don't throw yourself like that, woman," he growled. "You are pregnant, or have you forgotten?"

"Oh Vegeta, we're having a little girl!" she exclaimed happily.

"So it seems," Vegeta grumbled and settled his hands on her waist as he leaned back against the wall. He looked around, but saw no one watching them. Bulma pulled back and rested her hands on his chest, drawing his attention again. The prince watched as she studied his face intently, the smile slowly vanishing from her face.

"You're not happy," she concluded, studying his eyes and misreading his doubts. The prince's frown deepened, and he hesitated a second too long to respond for Bulma's liking. Just as fast as she'd been in his arms, she pulled away from him completely, giving him a look that would have put him six feet under if looks could kill. "You're a real asshole sometimes, Vegeta," she informed him, genuine anger in her voice.

He blinked. "I didn't even say anything-"

"You didn't have to. And I will have you know, there is nothing wrong with us having a girl!" she snapped at him.

"I didn't say there was, woman. And don't put fucking put words in my mouth, you know that I hate that," he snapped back.

"Oh? So that wasn't you I heard saying 'thank the gods' when you thought it was a boy, huh? Alright, fine then. Look at me and tell me that you're happy. As happy as you'd be if we were having another boy." Bulma crossed her arms, looked pointedly at him, and waited.

Vegeta hesitated again, uncomfortable with being put on the spot, but also failing to find the words to explain how he felt. Deep down, he didn't think much of himself as a father to Trunks, and the years had only marginally softened his opinion on his parenting ability. But raising a girl? Raising his son was hard enough. He was unequipped to describe the anxiety it all made him feel. After all, he could barely help Trunks navigate through adolescence in his son's human world. He could be hard on Trunks; the boy was strong enough to handle it. Did he have it in him to treat his daughter the same way? And if he couldn't rein her in the same way he could Trunks…what then?

His silence lasted one second too long for Bulma's taste. She turned on her heel, fuming as she walked away. "You can fly home. I don't want to see you right now."

"Bulma…" he started, taking a step after her.

"I mean it. _Don't_ try me."

Vegeta knew that tone, so he didn't. He stood there, watching her walk away, until she went down a stairwell and vanished from his sight. It was only then that he looked away, his eye twitching. He hated that she wasn't able to tell how he was feeling, like she usually could. Sighing, he ran one hand through his hair, before heading in the opposite direction. At the first window he saw, he opened it and climbed out, easily leaping up to the rooftop of the hospital.

Wind whipping through his hair and rustling his shirt, the prince leaned over the edge, his dark eyes scanning the parking lot below. He watched as his wife emerged from the building, went over to her favorite sportscar and got in. He maintained his vigilance the whole time, intent on giving her the distance she demanded, while still ensuring she made it home safely.

When he was certain she was safe at home, and when he felt Trunks there too, he finally relaxed. The prince briefly contemplated going after her, but decided cooler heads would prevail. Besides, he needed time to gather his own thoughts, since Bulma appeared to have no patience for anything less that day.

He glanced back over in the direction of Capsule Corp once more, then he turned and gave it his back. Tightening his fists, his bright blue ki ignited around him. A second later and he was gone.

* * *

In retrospect, perhaps supplying an overflow of alcohol for his friends when his wife was already angry with him was a bad idea – especially when that wife was Android 18.

The evening had started innocently enough. He had invited Yamcha, Tien, and Roshi over for drinks and to play cards, something that had already been planned for a week. It would not have been so bad, had he not completely forgotten to tell his wife they were coming over (he could have _sworn_ he had told her). That was strike 1. Strike 2 came along quickly afterwards when he realized that 18 had planned a romantic dinner for them as a surprise, even going so far as to arrange for a babysitter for Marron, and now had to cancel the reservation. But those sins were not as grievous as the one that was revealed when Yamcha and Roshi got drunk, and let it slip that Marron was also the name of one of Krillin's ex-girlfriends.

Strike 3: game over.

Krillin sighed as he stepped into a bar later that night in West City. He himself hadn't had much to drink, which he wanted to rectify. His friends had apologized to him, and likely would have tagged along had he allowed it. But 18 wanted to be alone, too angry with him to speak to him, and he wasn't up for company anymore either.

He was practically sulking when he sat on a barstool, miserably ordering a vodka before propping his chin up with his hand, his elbow on the table. He was wondering how long he'd be sleeping on the sofa when he perked up a little, sensing someone familiar nearby. He frowned, focusing, and then blinked in surprise. That energy signal was as unmistakable as it was unexpected. And it was right-

"You should pay better attention, baldy. I could have easily killed you just now."

-next to him. Krillin looked over at Vegeta who sat down next to him. The prince signaled for a beer as Krillin raised an eyebrow.

"Were you following me or something?"

Vegeta grunted, taking the cold bottle he was offered. He had indeed sought out the smaller man at his home, only to find that they were having some kind of get-together. The prince had zero interest in making his presence known to that many of the Earthling crew, but he had been curious when he heard yelling. When he had tracked Krillin leaving shortly afterwards, he figured the smaller warrior was onto something when he walked into the bar. Alcohol would be good, for all parties involved.

He ripped off the top of the bottle with his teeth, taking a good chug. "I was nearby," he gruffly informed Krillin. "What about you? What compels you to drink tonight, baldy?"

"You know that I have hair now, right?"

"You know that I don't give a shit, right?" the prince sneered. "Answer the question."

Krillin sighed, looking away as he raised his glass. "I'm in the doghouse," he mumbled.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. He glanced around, frowning as he did, before peering closer at his beer bottle to make sure it wasn't spiked with something bad. "Doghouse?" he finally ventured, forcing his voice to sound indifferent and not as confused as he felt.

"Eh, 18 is mad at me," Krillin miserably admitted, before raising his glass and taking a drink.

"Hn," Vegeta grunted with indifference. He couldn't have cared less.

"What about you? I can't imagine you're only here to hear about my marriage."

The prince frowned, before raising his bottle and chugging the rest of it in one shot. He signaled for another, before looking up at the television mounted above them, not bothering to address his companion.

Krillin waited, but when minutes passed in silence, he figured the Saiyan was not going to share whatever had brought about his unusual behavior. Far from it being awkward, though, he found Vegeta's presence that evening to be oddly soothing. The prince was a quiet man, who didn't need to fill every second with awkward conversation, like he and his friends were prone to doing. They kept the silence, both of them watching the television above them with only minimal interest as the drinks continued until both men were comfortably buzzed.

"What's it like, having a daughter?" Vegeta finally asked aloud, nearly thirty minutes later. Krillin nearly choked on his drink. Of all the questions he would have written up that the Saiyan prince might have asked, that would've never made the list. He glanced over at Vegeta, but the prince kept his eyes on the television. His face was guarded, except for the muscle that flexed near his jaw as he carefully added, "I am…curious."

"What, is Bulma pregnant again or something?" Krillin laughed.

"And just _what_ is so funny about that?" Vegeta heatedly demanded, turning to glare at him.

Krillin was unfazed though, much to the prince's dismay. His eyes widened as he exclaimed, "Whoa, seriously? Bulma's pregnant?! Holy crap!"

"Keep it down, idiot! I didn't come to advertise the news."

"Well, regardless, congratulations are in order. That's really great news! It's a girl, I'm guessing?"

"Yes, the child is female," Vegeta sighed. He signaled for another drink.

"That's great, really. Daughters are awesome. They're a blessing."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, definitely," Krillin stated, pride in his voice. "You'll see. There's nothing like a daughter adoring you and looking up to you. You set the example too, you know. You're the first adult male she will really get to know, and you'll set the tone for what she expects a good guy to be."

He of all people, setting an example for the type of man his daughter should expect in her life? He would rather set himself on fire. But he supposed it wasn't _too much_ worse than setting the example for the type of man Trunks should be…although he was fairly certain the boy was not following in his footsteps. That was for the best. He hoped the girl would follow her brother's example. The prince looked visibly uncomfortable, frowning before he asked, "How do you discipline your daughter?"

"I usually let 18 handle that. It's easier."

Vegeta nodded. That would indeed be the best approach. His words were coming easier now as he asked, "Does your daughter know how to fight?"

"A little, but not much. She doesn't really have an interest in fighting," Krillin said with a shrug. Vegeta scowled in disappointment; if _his_ daughter didn't want to fight, then he was really going to be at a loss. "She's outgrowing playing with dolls, but we used to have tea parties, and I let her do my hair a couple times," Krillin added, taking far more pleasure than he should have from the look of shock and disgust on Vegeta's face.

"I will not do that. _Ever_ ," he vehemently swore. "The girl can play with Gohan's brat if that's what she wants."

"Uh huh. That's what I said. We'll see what you say when you have a little girl wanting to play," Krillin chuckled. Vegeta closed his eyes and chugged down another bottle while Krillin watched. The smaller man pondered for a moment, before he brightened. "Hey, you know what may help you get ready for having a girl? Before Marron was born, I took this Daddy Boot Camp-"

Vegeta choked, coughing and sputtering as he hit his chest with a fist. Krillin instantly started patting him on the back, his face sheepish. "Sorry! Didn't mean to make ya choke, Vegeta. But if you get the chance to check it out, you should. It was a lifesaver for me."

"Fuck you, baldy. I'm going home," a red-faced Vegeta rasped. He tossed several bills on the counter before getting up and heading to the door, coughing a couple more times.

"Congratulations again!" Krillin called out, but he was ignored.

The prince stepped out into the cool night air, looking up at the sky as he regained his breath. He scanned the stars for a few seconds, before shifting his attention towards the direction of Capsule Corp. He had gotten some insight from another male, but now he had to have a talk with his wife.

Meanwhile, Bulma was lying in bed, under the covers and reading a book on pregnancy. After all, it had been a while since Trunks was born, not to mention that she was older now. She was determined to do it better to hopefully have an easier time. Glancing next to her, she looked at the picture of her ultrasound, picking it up for a closer look and smiling a little as she did. She was unfazed by the small tail in the image as well, although it made her smile strained at the visible reminder of her husband.

As if on cue, she heard a rustling before the door slid open to their bedroom balcony. Bulma turned around, lying on her side and purposely giving him her back. More than angry, she was hurt by his reaction to their baby being a girl. She was happy, and she wanted him to be too; it was just that simple.

"Where is Trunks?" Vegeta gruffly demanded when he couldn't sense the boy in his room.

"There is some new superhero movie premiering tonight. He wanted to go see it with some friends, so I said that was fine, so long as he's home by midnight."

"Hn."

There was silence after that, with the exception of the quiet sounds of Vegeta getting undressed. When he finally got in bed with her, Bulma reached out to the nightstand and put the picture down, before reaching up and turning off the lamp. Darkness swept the room, along with a suffocating silence.

It felt like it stretched for ages before she felt his muscular arm wrap around her from behind, his hand settling protectively over her stomach. Bulma exhaled slowly when she felt Vegeta's chest press up against her back.

"Are you still angry with me?" he asked. Bulma let the question wash over her, before she scowled and looked over her shoulder.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked, her nose crinkling.

He rolled his eyes. He was a smidge buzzed, but flying through the cold air had helped clear his head, combined with a higher tolerance overall. Still, he had had enough to drink that he was calmer and more relaxed than he usually was, and he couldn't hide that from his wife. "Is that a yes?" he pressed.

"I don't know. Are you still unhappy?" she asked in a tone he couldn't read. But he figured the fact that she wasn't drawing away from his touch was a good sign.

He nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing in her scent as he settled himself more comfortably against her. "I'm not displeased, woman," he whispered in her ear.

"Could have fooled me," she mumbled. "You're a jerk sometimes, you know that?"

"I just…it's just…" he started, before words failed him.

"Just what?" Bulma prodded, her anger lessening, especially when she felt his unusually gentle touch as his fingers caressed the skin over her stomach. She covered his hand lightly with her own.

It took Vegeta long minutes before he answered, minutes that felt like an eternity to Bulma. When he finally spoke though, his voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear him, even as close as they were.

"I was never around girls growing up. The ones I did see were slaves. Work slaves, sex slaves…women weren't valued in Frieza's Galactic Army except for how long they could last as slaves. Girls were especially useless and were killed usually on sight…it was different, with Saiyans. I know many legends of Saiyan female warriors…but I have no memory of any except for my mother. Aside from you, that was the last time I spent any significant, meaningful time with any female that I can remember."

Bulma stayed quiet for a long time, thinking over his words. Vegeta frowned when she turned over, lying down on her side and facing him now. They stared at each other for some long moments. He was masked with shadows, the light from the balcony bathing him from behind, but the light was illuminating her perfectly, and he couldn't look away if he tried.

"You think you can't do this," she finally realized, reading him like a book. His frown deepened, and he finally broke their eye contact, his eyes drifting down until they settled on her stomach.

"You don't?"

"I don't."

His lip twitched. The woman before him was maddening sometimes. "What have I ever done to make you believe I know the first thing about raising a girl?"

"You think you're the only man who's felt like this about his new daughter? You're not." Vegeta rolled his eyes, even as Bulma pulled up closer to him. "You're a good dad. You'll be fine. Our kid is gonna love you, just like our other kid."

He hesitated, keeping his gaze lowered. "Someone said…that I will set the example. For how a man should be. She will learn that from me."

"Is that so much different from what you do now with Trunks? You're setting the example for him now."

"Trunks is different. He is…better. He is good."

"Just like you."

"Tch."

"We'll figure it out. We always do."

Vegeta's frown softened a small amount at her words. Before she could say anything else, he leaned into her and kissed her, a more gentle kiss than she was used to getting from him as he wordlessly thanked her. Bulma sighed into it, bringing one hand up to his face as he pulled her tighter against him. He sighed into their kiss right as she pulled away.

"Oh yeah, someone's been drinking," she laughed, trailing one finger along his lips. He grunted, closing his eyes.

"I have decided…I will look into attending the father's camp," he admitted in defeat.

"Whoa, are you drunk?" Bulma blinked. "Are you hot? You're not going to throw up on me, are you?" she asked, reaching her hand up to put it against his forehead as he rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. I am only going for one day to see what it's like," he growled.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my crab ass husband?"

"I should have killed you on Namek, goddamn female," he sneered.

"Aw, there you are, sweetheart," she teased, laughing at the angry look he gave her. "That's great though. I'm proud of you. When Bra is born, her daddy will be prepared."

"Bra," he repeated, his scowl worsening. She hadn't let that name go, as unfortunate as that was for him. He didn't fight it nearly as much this time though, blaming the alcohol for making him tired.

"You really don't like it?"

"Hn."

Vegeta exhaled and rolled onto his back, mulling over the name for the first time without committing to it. Bulma followed his motion and curled up against him, resting her head on his bare chest. He said nothing else as he thought about the name, listening to Bulma's breathing as she fell asleep. He imagined an innocent little girl following him around the house, wanting his attention. The universe was a strange thing to give him of all people such an opportunity. He recognized how fortunate he was, and vowed to do his best by the girl, for better or worse. He would learn, just like he had learned with Trunks.

He watched the clock, staying awake as he waited for his son. When he sensed the boy coming home fifteen minutes before the deadline Bulma had given him, Vegeta finally relaxed. The boy was backing up his words, and proving more responsible, slowly but surely.

 _Trunks and Bra._ Two Earthling names for his two Saiyan children. A prince and a princess in their own rights.

He could get used to that.


	11. The Best I Can

Bulma woke up months later at two in the morning with only one thing on her mind.

She _NEEDED_ to get herself some pickles.

 _Immediately_.

One hand supporting her large stomach, Bulma yawned as she slowly pushed herself up so she was sitting. She glanced over at her husband in bed next to her to make sure she hadn't woken him, but Vegeta was sprawled out on his stomach, face turned away from her and snoring away. Yawning again, Bulma decided to get up and get herself a bowl of some cold, delicious, juicy pickles. Oh, she craved other things at times too, but pickles still reigned supreme, enough so that she always seemed to have a jar nearby while she worked. She had joked with her friends that hopefully it didn't mean the baby would be sour – but there was a high chance of that happening, considering who the father was.

 _Just a few weeks to go,_ she reminded herself as she ventured into her kitchen a few minutes later, flicking on the light. She was technically only seven months pregnant, although her pregnancy was still accelerated – she was equivalent to about eight and a half months. Things were moving normally, just faster, much more so than with Trunks. The result meant that Bulma was consuming an obscene amount of food, apparently due to her ravenous, growing half-Saiyan daughter.

One hand went to her stomach when a pang of hunger struck. Bulma sighed, rolling her eyes. "I hear you kid, I'm going, I'm going," she mumbled, opening the refrigerator. To her dismay, however, there were no more pickles. Nothing else looked appetizing. She sighed again, pulling out a gallon of milk to check the date on it, debating making a bowl of cereal even though she knew she wouldn't bother, when the baby kicked. _Hard._

Bulma gasped and dropped the milk, grimacing in pain as she doubled over. Before it had the chance to hit the floor, though, Vegeta was suddenly there to catch it with one hand. He instantly steadied his wife's lower back with his other hand. Bulma grasped onto him, making the prince quickly put the milk back before putting his arms around her in something dangerously close to an embrace. He released a breath, relieved that she and the child were fine. Bulma's ki changing in response to pain had immediately woken him, and he had reacted without hesitation.

"What is it?" he asked, frowning. His voice was rougher than usual from sleep, his eyes squinting in the bright light of the kitchen. Still, he couldn't hide his concern in his voice and in his eyes as he moved one hand protectively to her stomach.

"The kid kicks hard," Bulma told him, smiling through her grimace. _Not nearly as hard as Trunks did though – I always thought he was going to kill me,_ she added silently. Knowing full well her husband's guilt over being absent for their son's pregnancy, though, she kept the thought to herself. Vegeta scowled as he closed the refrigerator door.

"Her ki is restless," he commented, lowering his gaze as he snuck his hand into her robe and under her maternity gown, so he could feel her skin over her stomach. Bulma released a deep breath in relief when a warm yellow light pulsed around his hand, easing her pain. Who needed heating pads when your husband was a Saiyan?

"She's probably hungry. Or maybe it's just me. I don't know, I'm just starving," she admitted.

Vegeta kept his hand where it was, raising his dark eyes to her blue ones. His eyebrows drew together in firm disapproval. "Wretched female, you should have woken me. What if you had fallen down the stairs?" he demanded.

Bulma smiled, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "Impossible, with you around."

He rolled his eyes, and finally removed his hand from her skin when he saw that her pain had subsided. Their unborn daughter's ki signature was also calmer now, but if the girl did need nutrition, he imagined it wouldn't last. "There are fruits around here somewhere," he grumbled as he scanned over the kitchen, fighting back a yawn as one hand absently scratched his bare chest.

"We're out of pickles," Bulma sighed. Her blue eyes perked up though as she looked over at her husband, and his frown deepened. He didn't like that look. "But, since you're awake, can you go buy me some?"

"You are eating far too many pickles, woman. It's obscene," he argued. "You should eat other fruits and vegetables, or even better, some protein-"

"You're not hearing me. I _want_ pickles," Bulma fiercely asserted, no argument in her voice as she scowled at him. Vegeta's eye twitched, and he swallowed a little. He _really_ didn't like that look. "So if you're not going to go buy me some, then I will go get in the car and get some myself."

"You know I don't want you in one of those pathetic, unsafe human vehicles," he growled in annoyance. "They offer no protection in case there is an accident on the road."

"Then come with me, or go for me. Either way, I'm getting my goddamn pickles tonight, Vegeta."

Vegeta broke their eye contact, scowling as he turned away from her and rested his hands on his hips. He glared at the wall, before exhaling through his nose. Neither option was appealing, especially not for some fucking _pickles_ of all things, but more importantly because he wanted to go back to bed. But he didn't want her traveling alone in her condition, and he preferred her resting, so truly, there was only one choice.

"Fine," he tersely spat out, before turning back to his wife. "I will go out and retrieve the fucking pickles."

"Don't get all huffy and mad about it, you jerk," Bulma chastised him, even as he gently lifted her into his arms, scooping her up with ease. He rolled his eyes as he carried her out of the kitchen and back upstairs. "This is your fault, you know."

He scoffed. "How the hell is this my fault?"

"The Saiyan appetite isn't from me!"

"The girl will be a Saiyan warrior. She needs her nutrition so she can grow," Vegeta gruffly stated. Bulma's eyes softened over how he spoke about their daughter, and she put her arms around his neck as he carried her into the bedroom. He scowled when she nuzzled her nose against his neck, kissing him just under his jaw.

"Our girl is going to be a Daddy's girl, I think," she teased.

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, unsure what _that_ meant. Of course she was going to be his girl, she was his daughter. Not bothering to respond, he laid Bulma down gently on their bed. The prince then went about getting dressed so he could venture out to make the ridiculous purchase his wife required. Finally, he sat down on the edge of his bed, his black steel-toed boots in hand as he started unlacing them.

Bulma turned on her side, her most comfortable position to lay down in as she gazed at his back. She smiled a little as he quietly went about putting on his boots, remembering when she had bought that same pair of boots for him over a decade prior. Her happiness over having him by her side through this pregnancy ran deeper than she could have ever imagined.

"Thanks for going out for me, sweetheart."

"Hn," he grunted, leaning forward to quickly lace up his boots.

"I love you," she said, smiling a little.

"Whatever."

She sighed and reached over for her pregnancy book on her nightstand, before snuggling into her warm blankets. "Whatever, grouch. Oh, can you pick up some frozen pork chops, while you're at it? Trunks likes those, so maybe I'll have the bots prep some for dinner tomorrow-"

The balcony door slid closed behind the prince, making Bulma blink as she looked up, barely able to catch a glimpse of her husband walking out onto the balcony. She frowned in his direction, muttered under her breath about rude Saiyans, and then picked up her book while she waited impatiently for his return.

Not even two minutes later, the prince strode back in through the main bedroom door, startling her. Before Bulma could get a word out, Vegeta tossed a new jar of pickles onto the bed so it landed near his wife, and tossed her a fork for good measure.

"Holy crap, that was fast!" Bulma exclaimed. She eagerly put aside her book and picked up the jar and the fork as she shifted to sit back up. "What did you do? Rob the store?" she joked.

"Yes," he replied, pulling his shirt off over his head.

Bulma looked up, catching his eye. To her horror, she realized he was dead serious. "Oh my god, Vegeta," she groaned, making him scowl.

"What?" he defensively spat out. "I went in, got the materials you asked for, then got out. No one even noticed. It took me a minute or so though, to find the damn pickles," he admitted as he dropped and stepped out of his jeans. "The meat you asked for has filled all the fridges in the garages. It should suffice for Trunks and me."

Bulma had her face covered with her hands. "You're supposed to _pay_ for that stuff. You _know_ that."

"Your pathetic human law enforcement is more than welcome to come and try to arrest me," he snapped nastily. Honestly, he was too tired to give a damn about human bullshit that night. Climbing back on his side of the bed, he got under the covers, laying on his back as he glared up at the ceiling.

"What's up with you? Why are you so crabby tonight? You're not the one dealing with a half Saiyan kid growing inside of you."

Vegeta reached up to rub his eyes. His senses had always been sensitive where Trunks and Bulma were concerned. In the last month, however, his senses regarding Bulma's ki had become extraordinarily fine-tuned and granular. The slightest fluctuation due to pain, or fear, or any heightened emotion could wake him from a dead sleep, and always left him feeling panicked as he ensured that she and their daughter were safe. Or even worse – that she wasn't in labor yet when they still had a short stretch to go. Not only that, but over the last couple of months, he was starting to recognize and familiarize himself with his daughter's ki signature. The girl's ki signature would rise randomly out of the blue during the night, which Bulma often slept through, but he could not.

Needless to say, he hadn't gotten much sleep as of late. He glanced over at his wife, who was crunching on a pickle in bed next to him, holding the jar and looking back at him curiously.

"It's nothing. I'm fine," he grumbled. She was carrying his child with Saiyan blood, and he could see that it wasn't an easy task. He refused to complain about his recent lack of sleep, especially when he knew that there were quite a few nights when she also couldn't sleep well. _And with a screaming brat on the way, it may be some time before we both get good sleep again,_ he relented to himself.

"If you say so," she said, disbelievingly, frowning at him. She looked back down at her jar of pickles that she was rapidly working through.

The prince exhaled through his nose, before moving towards her. She was sitting up, so he buried his face against her hip, his arm loosely but protectively going around the bottom of her stomach and over her legs. He laid down as close to her as he could, his fingers lightly roaming the skin of her thigh, apologizing with his touch.

Bulma put her fork in the jar, holding it in one hand. She used her free hand to reach down and lightly scratch just behind Vegeta's ear, accepting his apology with her own touch. She felt the tension in his arm bleed away when she did, and within a minute, he was snoring softly again. When she was sure that he was definitely down for the count, she went back to munching on her pickles, smiling as she remembered he was the reason she had them that night. Looking down at her stomach, her smile grew.

"We're almost ready for you, kiddo."

* * *

"Bah, damn it," Trunks muttered the next day. He was sitting on the edge of his bed clad in only his boxer briefs, a headset on, gaming hard. The teenager bit his bottom lip, rapidly pressing the buttons of his X-Box controller, tilting the controller and leaning to the side as he tried navigating his character through the battlefield he was on. "Almost… _almost_ …"

"TRUNKS!" The teenager was so startled, he almost dropped his controller. He glanced warily at the door, sensing his father angrily approaching as he wondered what he had done this time.

"Yeah?" he called out, pausing his gameplay. When Vegeta finally opened the door to his room, Trunks gave him a glance out of the corner of his eye, smiling nervously. "Morning, Dad."

Vegeta glared at him angrily. "How many fucking times do we need to tell you, boy? When you serve yourself a beverage, finish EVERYTHING. Don't leave two drops in the goddamn container and put it back in the fridge!"

"Oh yeah, right right. Sorry, I thought there was enough for a cup of juice left," Trunks sheepishly said.

"Well there wasn't. _Don't_ do it again."

"I won't, I promise."

"And turn that shit off. It's time for breakfast."

"Can I get just one more minute? I'm _sooo close!_ Please, Dad?" Trunks anxiously asked. Without waiting for a reply, the 13-year-old unpaused the game.

Vegeta scowled, inclined to say no. Curiosity got the best of him though when he heard the sounds of the game which included gunshots, and he walked fully into his son's room, coming to stand in front of his bed so he could see. The prince grunted and crossed his arms, watching the video game in action. It was a first-person shooting game, in a war setting. It only took a second for him to recognize it as the game he had personally selected as a gift for his son's last birthday. He wasn't invested into gaming like his son was, and had merely picked the most violent game out of the catalog Bulma had shown him, much to her objections. When he had raised the point that the boy had already seen life-or-death battle, she had relented.

The prince snickered. He would have been more pleased if his son was training, but seeing some virtual bloodshed and death wasn't so terrible, he supposed. "We will expect you in five minutes," he informed the teenager, before turning back to the door to head back downstairs.

"Do you wanna try it, Dad?" Trunks asked, making his father pause and look back at him, raising an eyebrow. The teenager offered him a smile. Bulma's pregnancy had, oddly enough, done much to improve his relationship with his father and heal the last remaining bits of resentment he had held. Vegeta had always had his guard lowered at home, especially around his mother, but the pregnancy had opened up another side of the prince that Trunks had never seen. It had done much to heal his perception of his dad when he saw how gentle he was when touching his mom, and how he was often carrying her around to make things easier on her. His father was gruff, crass, and abrasive with his words, but now that Trunks was older, he was seeing Vegeta in a different light than he ever had.

Trunks' smile spread to a grin as he extended the spare controller usually reserved for Goten to his father. "I think you might like it. Mom reinforced the controllers too, so we can't break them…"

Fifteen minutes later, Bulma was downstairs, sitting at their breakfast table alone. She had been pleased to see that Vegeta had "retrieved" twenty pickle jars (she had already made a very generous anonymous donation to the grocery store to compensate them for her husband's theft), and she was already crunching on one as she stared at her half-eaten pancakes. She scowled when she looked at the enormous breakfast spread she had prepared for her husband and son (with the help of her cooking bots, of course). Vegeta had gone upstairs to chastise Trunks after the boy left just a few drops of orange juice in the carton, _again,_ and also to retrieve him so they could eat. But it had been fifteen minutes and the food was getting cold.

"Vegeta! Trunks!" she yelled, for the third time. She knew they could hear her, with their damn Saiyan hearing. Finally, she sighed in agitation as she decided she would go investigate and make sure Vegeta hadn't killed their firstborn over some orange juice.

It took her a little time to walk up the stairs in her state. Finally, she reached her son's room and paused, blinking at the scene that greeted her.

"HA! Take that, damn bastard," Vegeta cackled as he sat next to his son on the edge of Trunks' bed, a controller in his hands as he furiously pressed the buttons. Both of them were wearing headsets now, teaming up to play against two players online. The prince had only meant to try the game for a few seconds, but his fiercely competitive nature had won out. Now, he was in it to win and destroy - even if only virtually.

"Yeah! Get him, Dad!" Trunks hollered, pressing the buttons on his own controller. "I'll kill the one hiding behind the car!"

"I need more ammunition, goddamn it," Vegeta snarled. Father and son both leaned to their right, both of them pressing the buttons on their controllers so hard that they would have long shattered the controllers, were it not for the woman staring at them both in exasperation.

"Ahem," Bulma cleared her throat. As happy as she was that they were bonding over video games, she was hungry. She frowned when they didn't look over. "What are you two doing? Video games are not allowed this early, and it's time for breakfast."

"We'll be down in a minute," Vegeta stated, eyes focused on the screen.

Bulma huffed in annoyance. "I don't think so, tough guy. The food is already getting cold."

"In a minute."

"Oh, there's some ammo, Dad!"

"Where?"

"In the building, by the-"

"Excuse me! You will both come down _NOW_ for breakfast!" Bulma yelled at them, earning shocked looks from father and son. She balled her hands into fists on her hips, glaring daggers at both of them. "I freaking prepared breakfast for us to eat as a FAMILY and GODDAMNIT we are going to fucking eat as a family, so turn this game off before I BREAK IT! AM I CLEAR?!"

"Yes," Vegeta and Trunks quickly said at the same time, both of them nodding. Bulma stared them down a moment longer, before turning and slowly walking back to the staircase.

The prince removed his headset, tossing the controller back to his son. "Shut this down and get dressed. It's time for breakfast," he ordered the teenager, who nodded and started doing just that. Vegeta then stood up and went after his wife.

He was there before she could take a step down the stairs. She glared angrily at him, but put her arm around his shoulders anyway as he lifted her up into his arms to carry her down. He nervously cleared his throat, feeling Bulma's intense gaze on him.

"I don't like video games being played in my house before 8 in the morning, Vegeta," she firmly told him as he carried her down the steps. He just grunted, deeming it wiser to keep his mouth shut. His hands were occupied, so he had no means to defend himself if she decided to whack him.

They both finally made it back to the kitchen, safe and unwhacked. Trunks soon joined them, and the family sat down to eat. Bulma's anger passed as she watched them both eat the food she had prepared, taking a small sip of her coffee. Things had calmed down as Vegeta used a tablet next to his plate to skim the news.

"So, are you ready to go to Daddy Boot Camp?" Bulma asked her husband. Across from Vegeta, Trunks snickered. When he saw the death glare his father gave him, however, he quickly shoved pancakes into his mouth.

"As ready as I will be, to go to such a stupid and foolish thing," Vegeta sneered, lifting his cup of coffee for a sip. Needless to say, he regretted ever making that commitment. He could have blamed the alcohol for making him tell his wife he would give it a chance, but he preferred to blame Krillin.

"Um, excuse me, it's not a stupid and foolish thing! It's for our daughter!" Bulma snapped at him. The prince rolled his eyes as he drank his hot coffee, but before he could respond, Trunks gave a sound of disgust.

"Aw man, there are bits of egg shell in here," the teenager muttered with a scowl as he poked around his scrambled eggs with his fork.

"You know what? Maybe next time, both of you can make your own breakfast," Bulma informed them. Vegeta blinked, and then looked alarmed when he could smell his wife's tears as she stood up. "I try to do my best, and no one helps me around here, and no one appreciates me!" she cried, heading out of the kitchen. "My feet hurt, and I tried to make us a nice breakfast, and I can't even manage that! My son doesn't like my eggs, my husband never helps me, and my daughter is only craving fucking PICKLES!"

Vegeta and Trunks exchanged a look. The prince sighed, shoving his plate away. "Finish your food, then clean this up so your mother doesn't have to," he ordered.

He then stood up and walked after his wife, bracing himself. He found her near the front door, shoving things angrily into her purse. He came over to stand next to her, but she was ignoring him. He could still smell her tears though.

"What do you need my help with, woman?" he asked.

"Nothing," she snapped.

Vegeta closed his eyes, willing himself to have patience and not lose his temper. He forced himself to count to ten, and then tried again.

"Bulma…" he breathed, frowning as he opened his eyes again. "I don't know what I'm not doing, if you don't tell me. I'm going to the father training thing today. I don't refuse the requests to go out and get you food at all hours of the night. I have not denied you anything, to my knowledge. If there's something else I need to do, tell me, because I cannot read your mind."

Bulma hesitated, before looking over at him as they made eye contact. Her face cracked with emotion, and he stepped closer and gently pulled her into an embrace right as she began to cry. Vegeta sighed as he rubbed her back.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed, struggling to regain her composure, her face against his neck. He could feel her tears on his skin, and he lowered his head a little as he held her closer. They had been married going on eleven years now, and it was still rare for him to outright embrace her openly like he was doing. But it was also rare for his wife to shed tears in his presence. He chalked it up to her pregnancy; as her husband, he needed to be the steady one to support her through it. It was a responsibility he was trying his best to take seriously.

"It's fine. Nothing to apologize for."

"I'm just, I'm so tired. My feet are swollen and they hurt, and my back hurts, and when the baby kicks, it really, _really_ hurts, Vegeta."

"I know. It will be over soon."

"I'm ready to have my body back, to get her out of me, you know? Does that make me a bad mother?" she miserably asked, fresh tears coming to her eyes as she clutched him tighter. He sighed again. "We tried so hard to have another baby."

"We did, and we _are_ having another child. The pregnancy is nearing its end, woman. The child will be here soon, and then you will have your body back. I don't think you're a bad mother for wanting that."

"I don't want to do this again."

He shrugged. "Fine by me. Two children are more than enough."

Bulma sniffed, brushing at her eyes, before pulling back a little from him. She rested her hands on his chest as he settled his hands on her waist. She looked up and made eye contact with him, both of them studying the other. There was a little wariness in Vegeta's gaze, as though he didn't know what to do or what to say to make her feel better. Bulma smiled a little bit, and leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the lips.

"You don't have to go to the Daddy Boot Camp if you really don't want to, hon," she told him.

"Hn," Vegeta grunted, breaking their eye contact as he looked off to the side. "I said I'd go at least once to see for myself. I do what I say I'll do, woman."

"I love you, you know."

"I know."

"Mom?"

Vegeta pulled away from his wife, both of them looking over at Trunks as he walked into the living room. The teenager looked sheepish, scratching the back of his head.

"I didn't mean anything bad earlier with the eggs. They were really good! I'm sorry I hurt your feelings."

"You're fine, kiddo. No worries," Bulma said, smiling at her son. Trunks was Vegeta's height now, and she couldn't help but wonder where the time had gone. Her little boy wasn't little anymore. Looking back and forth between him and her husband, she pursed her lips. "You know what? Why don't you go with your dad to the Daddy Boot Camp? I know you're not the dad, but you're the big brother, so it may be good for you to learn some things too."

Vegeta looked over his shoulder and caught the aghast look on his son's face. He smirked. _That's what you get for laughing at me earlier, you little shit._

"Yes, I think that is a good idea," the prince agreed. "Go and get dressed, boy. We'll leave in five minutes."

"You can also keep an eye on your dad, to make sure he behaves," Bulma added, making Vegeta growl low in his throat, which only made her laugh.

"Alriiight, I guess I'll go," Trunks sighed, heading up the stairs to his room. If he was going to go, he was at least bringing his cell phone with him so he could Snapchat his dad in secret. Goten, Gohan, and Krillin would all _love_ to see that.

Unaware of his boy's scheming, Vegeta turned back to his wife, his dark eyes drifting downwards to her stomach. "And you will be fine while I am away?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna rest a little, and then maybe send off a few thank you notes for the gifts I got from the baby shower. Maybe do a little work too, if I'm up for it."

He frowned in disapproval. "Work?"

"Just on my laptop here at home. I'll be _fine,_ don't worry."

Vegeta turned a little, but visibly hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Well, if it makes you feel better, hon, take your cell phone with you. Then I can message you in case anything happens."

"Fine. Let me know immediately if anything happens."

"I will."

" _Immediately,_ " he emphasized.

"I will," Bulma asserted with a smile. She went over and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks. It's good to have you here this time around."

He shrugged as though it was nothing, even though he silently agreed. It was good to be there, to be relied upon…to be needed. It was good to see his child developing and his woman being strong enough to handle it. The prince lowered his gaze to her stomach again, scowling as he growled, "And you. I know you can hear me in there, brat. You better behave or I'll be yanking that tail and then leaving you out in the cold."

"Uh huh," Bulma said knowingly, her blue eyes dancing. " _Suuuure_ you will."

"Alright, I'm ready!" Trunks yelled, jogging down the stairs. His phone was charged and ready to go. He came around, looking at his father expectantly.

"Good. Let's go get this over with," Vegeta grumbled, heading towards the front entrance with Trunks on his heels.

"Have a good time, boys!" Bulma called after them as they both stepped outside.

* * *

A short while later, Vegeta was _not_ having a good time.

"Welcome, Mr. Briefs. Sign the check in sheet here, and then grab your baby," the receptionist told him without looking up from her desk. Vegeta and Trunks exchanged a glance.

The prince's eyes shifted back to the woman before him, and he scowled as he scribbled his signature on the check-in sheet. "The child hasn't been born yet, so I can't."

"No no no. Over there."

The woman pointed with her pen, and Vegeta looked. Along the far wall of the lobby was a table, filled with bundles…of children? Vegeta blinked. No, it couldn't have been. He wasn't getting a ki signature from any of the infants.

Shifting his gaze to his son, he ordered him, "Go look."

"Is your son going to participate?" the woman asked, finally looking up at him as she adjusted her glasses. Vegeta looked back, giving a brisk nod. "That should be fine, but he will have to sit out for the third module on Wednesday. Here is the schedule."

Vegeta grunted and snatched the schedule from her, before walking over to his son. He skimmed it while walking over, and then checked the third module, raising one eyebrow as he did. _How to rekindle your sex life with Mom after the baby is born._ Yes, he would probably have Trunks not accompany him for that one, lest he traumatize his firstborn. He himself was more than a little interested in attending that one though.

"They're all dolls!" Trunks exclaimed when Vegeta finally got to him. The boy smirked as he handed one to his father. "Here's your baby, Dad."

Vegeta exhaled through his nose, glaring at the bundle with pure contempt. Yes, it was a bundle with a doll of an infant inside of it. The doll had a stupid smile on its face, like a clown. Or like Kakarot.

"I am not touching that fucking thing. I don't know where it's been."

Reaching out, he grabbed a handful of the blanket the doll was wrapped up in with one hand, snatching it out of his son's hands. He then carried the bundle at his side like it was a piece of luggage, muttering under his breath as he headed towards the entrance for the boot camp. He was unaware of the 13-year-old behind him who was using Snapchat every step of the way.

As soon as Vegeta stepped through the entrance of what looked like a gym, an upbeat man with bright red hair and big black glasses immediately mozied over to him, greeting him happily.

"Welcome to Daddy Boot Camp! And you are?"

 _Wanting to kill you,_ Vegeta silently answered. He remained silent, glaring at the man as Trunks came up next to him.

"This is my dad, Vegeta. I'm Trunks," the teenager informed him with a grin, suddenly so happy he came along. He was going to have Snapchat material for a decade.

"Good to meet you both! I am Alexander, one of the instructors of Daddy Boot Camp. And have you – oh no! You can't carry your baby like that, Vegeta," Alexander chastised, reaching out for the bundle in Vegeta's hand. The prince instinctively growled and took a step back, and the motion made the doll come loose in the bundle. The doll tumbled to the floor, landing on its head. Vegeta looked over in surprise and wariness when the doll started crying with loud shrieks. The facial expression on the doll never changed from that stupid wide smile though.

Alexander gasped, horrified. "You dropped your baby!" he yelled, making Vegeta blink.

"It's just a doll, it's not a real child," the prince defensively spat out, scowling.

"These dolls are the exact weight as newborns. They have been specifically designed to train new parents. They can cry, they can overheat, and they can die! Take care of your baby!"

"Take care of your baby!" the other instructors chanted, startling Vegeta. Trunks was struggling not to laugh as he caught it all on video on his phone.

"That's our Daddy Boot Camp mantra. Take care of your baby! Always!" Alexander informed the prince, who could only blink and wonder what the hell kind of cult he had walked into. Alexander rocked the doll in his arms, and then it stopped its shrieks. To Vegeta's shock, a red light suddenly appeared on top of the infant's head, to simulate a bruise. Alexander looked at him with critical eyes. "The DBC doll baby can only survive two drops to the head. Be more careful!"

"Alright gentlemen, alright alright, let's get going!" one of the instructors, a large, burly man yelled. He had an enormous beard, and a large rimmed cowboy hat. "If everyone has a baby, take a seat, and we'll begin!"

"Yeah Dad. Be more careful," Trunks teased as Alexander left Vegeta with the doll.

The prince settled his murderous gaze to his son, who had wisely put his phone away for the time being. His eye twitched, the muscle by his jaw visibly flexing as he held the doll baby awkwardly against his chest with one arm. He felt like a complete moron, but he reminded himself to endure for just a little longer. Odds were high that Bulma was going to require substantial rest after giving birth. He _wanted_ her to rest after giving birth. But she could only do so if he stepped up and helped tend to their daughter, and he couldn't do that if he didn't know what the hell he was doing.

Besides, the dumbfounded look of all the other men there that were going to be fathers made him feel more at ease, especially when he noticed a couple other dads dropping their doll babies and getting the same verbal cult harassment. There looked to be about twenty men there in the class with them. Muttering curses, the prince took a seat heavily in the very last row of chairs, glaring at the boy who sat down next to him.

"Take care of your baby, Dad," Trunks whispered, smirking.

Vegeta growled low, "Watch it, boy. Go get a demon doll of your own so you can learn something."

Trunks frowned, having been more content to watch (and record) his dad. He sighed and went to retrieve his own doll as the instructors called the "class" to attention.

"Alright, you maggots!" the burly instructor yelled. "Your wives all sent you here for one thing. For y'all to learn how to do something with your new babies. This is a week-long boot camp and we will make dads out of you. We will do one module a day. Today we will do module number one, which will cover the basics, how to care for your new kid. My name is Mike and I have four kids, so I know what the hell I'm talking about!"

Vegeta snorted. Four kids? He was going to have his hands full with two. He couldn't even imagine. Trunks sat down next to him with a doll of his own, holding it just as awkwardly as Vegeta. The prince snuck a look at his son's doll, and scowled at the same plastered clown smile. It was like something out of a horror movie.

He resolved that he was going to kill Krillin and Gohan for recommending this class to Bulma. And probably everyone there in the gym, save for Trunks. Though the boy was pushing it.

Ignoring the spiel, he reached into his jeans with his free hand for his cell phone, and immediately started composing a text to the only person on the planet besides Trunks who he had programmed into his phone.

_How are things? Everything fine?_

He got his response less than a minute later.

_Yep, just laying down and watching a movie._

Satisfied, he locked the screen on the phone and put it back in his pocket. He exhaled through his nose in exasperation, his teeth grinding together as they began module 1.

Ten minutes later, he was awkwardly holding the doll as Alexander showed him how to properly hold an infant. Vegeta supported the neck of the doll as he held the bundle in two hands, but he couldn't keep the hatred off his face as he gazed at the stupid clown smile the doll had. All in all though, holding the doll wasn't difficult. Neither was learning how to feed the doll. He also observed a demonstration on how to bathe an infant which seemed very simple. He was shocked to learn that you couldn't shake an infant lest you risk severely injuring their brains, and wondered if the same was true for hybrid Saiyan infants – but he dared not risk his daughter's health (or Bulma's wrath) to find out.

He was pleased. The training was not difficult at all. Although he certainly hoped his child weighed more than what he was feeling now. The bundle hardly weighed a thing.

When they moved to changing a diaper several hours later though, Vegeta's patience finally broke. _Especially_ when the instructors brought one of their own real infants in, with a dirty diaper no less. He had come, he had learned a couple things, but this was the line. _This was the fucking line._ And even if he had wanted to stay, his sense of smell was too sensitive and he couldn't bear it. The brat smelled so _foul._

The prince got up, heading to the back so abruptly and without warning that Trunks had to scramble after him.

"Dad?"

"Stay if you want, Trunks. But I'm leaving," Vegeta growled. With that, he tossed his doll over to the table by the door exit he was heading towards.

Everyone gasped. Especially when the doll bounced on the table and suddenly "shut down". Alexander made a beeline towards him, blocking his exit.

"You NEVER throw your baby, Vegeta!" Alexander cried out. "Now you've killed your baby!"

"Fuck those dolls. But, if you _really_ want to see me kill someone, I'll oblige," Vegeta snarled venomously, taking a threatening step toward the instructor. Alexander squeaked in terror, clutching his chest as he backed up, but Trunks instantly stepped in between them.

"Don't worry, Alexander, my dad definitely won't throw my sister around. We're just going to leave," Trunks nervously chuckled, forcing a grin on his face. He laid his doll down on the same table, gently. Latching onto his father's arm, he pulled his dad in the direction of the exit. "Come on, Dad. Let's go."

Vegeta yanked his arm free though, turning around back to Alexander. "And one other thing," he snarled. "Those are some fucking _ugly_ dolls, and…" his voice trailed, and he cocked his head to the side in confusion.

 _Bulma,_ he realized, panicked.

Meanwhile, back in Capsule Corp, Bulma was clinging to the dining room table for dear life. She had only meant to go into the kitchen for a small meal, but now found herself in pain that was all too familiar. She clutched her stomach with one hand, the table with the other, forcing herself to breathe as she felt the fluid running between her legs.

"Oh, shit," she whined as a contraction struck. Oh, she definitely hadn't missed _this,_ not at all. She was struggling to stand when the entrance door to their home practically tore off the hinges. A fraction of a second later, and Vegeta and Trunks were both by her side.

"Bulma!" Vegeta worriedly exclaimed, surveying the fluid on the floor as his wife desperately grasped onto him. He had felt her ki signature rise higher than ever before, and had immediately rushed back home. He cursed himself under his breath for leaving her side. "What-?"

"My water broke!"

 _Oh, shit._ He blinked, momentarily lost and forgetting everything he'd read about human pregnancies. Water breaking…what was that again? Was that a symptom of false labor? Or was she in actual labor? But wasn't the due date still weeks away? What was happening?

"What does that mean again?"

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK IT MEANS?" Bulma shrieked in his face. Vegeta blinked again. "Get me to the hospital!"

That, he could do. Vegeta immediately scooped her up in his arms, holding her against his chest. He turned to his son. "Trunks, bring the hospital bag in the girl's room," he ordered.

"Right," the teenager nodded, dashing off to do just that.

"Ohhhh gods," Bulma moaned, grimacing and leaning her head back as Vegeta quickly left the compound, taking to the skies as fast as he dared with her in his arms. She clutched him and moaned again. "Can't you go faster? What the hell do you train for if you can't go faster than this!" she yelled at him, making his eye twitch in agitation.

"You just focus on keeping that kid inside you until we get there," he growled. Leave it to her to be in labor and chastising him while he rushed her to the hospital faster than any human vehicle ever could. He had learned from experience that this was the fastest she could handle without getting nauseous, but he didn't bother reminding her.

Bulma groaned loudly as another contraction struck. She clutched his shirt hard. "Ughh, for fuck's sake, Vegeta! Why did you make me go through this again?" she whimpered.

He scowled; that was revisionist history if he'd ever heard it. Wisely though, he didn't comment, instead focusing on where he was going and getting his wife to someone who could help her, if the child was truly on the way. Gods knew he couldn't help her during the process. Seconds later, he descended in front of West City Hospital, quickly striding inside with Bulma in his arms.

"Humans!" he barked. "Come help my wife!"

To the hospital's credit, medical personnel was instantly there to assist. They placed Bulma into a wheelchair and quickly whisked her inside as Vegeta and Trunks followed closely behind them. The prince finally felt like he could breathe again when he saw that they seemed to know what to do as they took her straight into the maternity wing. He glanced back at his son who jogged up next to him, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Bulma had thought ahead and prepared the bag, but the prince had no clue what was in it. He just knew that she had given him strict orders to bring it, should they ever need to rush to the hospital. He may not have liked following orders but he figured his wife giving birth to his child warranted several exceptions to that.

"Is this it, Dad? Is the baby going to be born today?" Trunks excitedly asked his father.

"I don't know," Vegeta admitted, scowling as he sensed his wife and daughter's ki signatures. Bulma's was elevated from her pain, and the girl's was extremely restless. He had no idea if that was all normal or not – not for the first time, he cursed himself for having missed Trunks' birth. Anxious, he grit his teeth. "We'll find out."

Hours later, and Bulma was still in labor. If Vegeta had still had his tail, the fur would've been standing on end from how anxious he was. He was almost in a haze, barely noticing when Bulma's parents arrived, Chi-Chi and the whole Son family arriving soon afterwards. He figured they could all fend for themselves, and focused all of his attention on his wife.

Bulma gripped his hand hard as steel later that night. Vegeta scowled as he stood next to her bed, his eyes drifting down her body. Her legs were spread, knees up, a blanket spread over her thighs, with her doctor there cheering her on and giving him status updates as nurses came in and out.

Impossibly, Bulma's grip on his hand tightened even more. Vegeta's eyes shifted back up to her face which was covered in sweat.

"It'll be over soon," he told her, unable to hide the concern in his eyes over the wild fluctuations of her ki. She was hooked up to several monitors, and the beeps of the machines were only intensifying the experience, grating on the Saiyan's hearing. He didn't know much about Saiyan childbirth, but he did know that many died from it. He tried ridding the thought from his mind, telling himself that she had done this before. Plus, she was tough – she _was_ his wife, after all.

"How long has it been?" Bulma moaned.

Vegeta glanced over at the clock on the wall, and blinked in shock. "It's going on six hours now."

"Oh gods," she whimpered. "I was in labor with Trunks for almost twelve hours!"

Vegeta's eyes widened. Twelve hours? He was surprised she had lived through it, if it was half as difficult as this one. Just watching her was making him feel physically exhausted. If he could have endured the pain instead of her, he gladly would have.

"You're almost there, Bulma," Dr. Robinson encouraged. "I can see the head of the baby now!"

For the fourth time since the labor had truly begun, Vegeta picked up a clean washcloth by her bed and gently wiped the sweat off his wife's face. He brushed some of the damp blue sweaty hair out of her face.

"Don't touch me! This is all your fault, you JERK!" Bulma yelled at him, letting go of his hand and turning her face away. Vegeta raised a wary eyebrow. "Getting me pregnant like you did! …oh, why me?" she cried.

 _Well, I suppose I can go get a quick drink and then return,_ the prince mused, turning towards the door. No sooner had he done that though, than Bulma reached out to seize his forearm.

"No, don't leave me, Vegeta, please," she pleaded, and he turned back towards her. _Or not,_ he mused.

"I won't," he assured.

"Don't leave."

"Never."

He offered her his hand again, and she grasped it so hard that he may have felt real pain if he were human. Vegeta raised his forearm with his free arm to brush the sweat off his own forehead, his stomach tied up in knots.

Bulma screamed then, drowning out the doctor and nurse giving encouragement to push as Vegeta cringed. The prince glanced over nervously to her upraised knees, sensing his daughter's ki signature rising. He had read the things Bulma had printed for him, but nothing had prepared him at all for this experience, and it was entirely overwhelming just being part of it. He stared anxiously, his own face now covered in sweat.

Finally, after what felt like ages to both of them, they heard their daughter crying for the first time.

Vegeta and Bulma both looked over when the doctor held up the newborn for them to see, setting their sights on their second child for the first time. The prince finally exhaled, his dark eyes scrutinizing his daughter. The girl looked strong, and had a solid pair of lungs on her as she screamed and cried with a reddened face. A brown tail whisked.

 _That's my girl._ Vegeta couldn't help his smile.

"She looks great," the doctor told them happily, before handing the screaming child over to the nurse who wrapped the girl in blankets and took her to get checked. Vegeta looked back at his wife, who was breathing heavily.

He picked up another washcloth and wiped her sweat away again, watching as Bulma looked back at him. She looked haggard and exhausted, without any makeup, her skin pale and already sweating again. She looked like she had just fought the battle of a lifetime.

Vegeta had never thought her more beautiful.

Unable to resist and unable to put how he felt into words, he took her jaw in his hand and leaned down, kissing her and for the first time in their whole relationship, not giving a damn who could see them. She welcomed his tongue lazily exploring her warm mouth, exhaling in relief from her nose that it was over and grateful that he had been by her side.

"Do you want to tell everyone that she's here?" Bulma asked him when he finally pulled away.

Vegeta frowned. "Not yet," he responded. The last thing he wanted to do right then was leave.

"So…Bra, then?"

He rolled his eyes. "Do I have a choice?" he grumbled.

"You always have a choice, Vegeta. You've always had a choice."

The prince scowled, nose twitching. He didn't particularly like the name, but he didn't hate it anymore. In fact, he had warmed up to it. It could grow on him, he supposed. Plus, he didn't have any better suggestions.

"Bra is fine," he gruffly replied.

"You can probably go see her now, if you want."

"We will see her together," he said, no argument in his voice. After all, if anyone deserved to see and hold the girl first, it was Bulma.

He backed up then and allowed the doctor to look over his wife. No longer needing to hover over her, he took a heavy seat in the chair a few feet from her bed, crossing his arms. He leaned his head back, his senses picking up his daughter's ki signature in the room next to theirs. The girl's ki had steadied now, and so had Bulma's. For the first time in what felt like months, Vegeta finally allowed himself to fully relax as he closed his eyes.

He didn't realize he had nodded off, until he heard the door to the room open. Vegeta instantly opened his eyes, straightening in his chair and blinking as he remembered where he was. Looking over at his wife, he saw Bulma stirring too and yawning, the sound waking her as well. Glancing over at the clock, he was shocked to see that a couple of hours had passed. He and Bulma made brief eye contact before they both looked over at the door to see a nurse coming in, carrying a bundle in her arms. To his relief, the girl wasn't crying anymore.

"You have a very healthy baby girl," the nurse informed them with a smile. "We have cleaned her and checked her, and she has a clean bill of health. Would either of you like to hold her?"

"Let her mother hold her," Vegeta instructed. Bulma tried to pull herself up, and he immediately got back up on his feet to go over and assist her. The nurse came over, and gently placed the baby in Bulma's arms. Vegeta took as much of a seat on the bed next to his wife as he could, as they both finally got a good look at their daughter.

"Well hello there," Bulma tiredly but happily whispered, Vegeta watching over her shoulder. He frowned as he examined the girl. The infant had small, wisps of blue on her head, hardly enough to qualify as hair. Her eyes were closed, but she didn't seem asleep, her small fingers opening and curling as she quietly gurgled.

"She is small," Vegeta commented, his frown deepening as his dark eyes skirted over to his wife. "Is her size normal?"

"Yes. She's perfect. Aren't you, baby girl?" Bulma said, smiling and fascinated by her daughter. She gently touched the baby's nose, prompting Bra to wrap her small hand tightly around her mother's finger. Bulma laughed a little. "Oh, she's definitely Saiyan. A tough, little Saiyan princess."

"Hn."

"Here. Hold her," she said, turning to hand the baby to him. Vegeta shook his head.

"She's fine where she is," he gruffly stated.

Bulma frowned in confusion, and he had to look away. "Don't you want to hold the baby?"

Vegeta said nothing for several moments, before slowly looking back at his wife and the bundle in her arms. Visibly uncomfortable, he shook his head again. Bulma gently shifted Bra, now holding her newborn daughter securely against her chest with one arm. With her free hand, she reached out and took her husband's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"It's okay," she coaxed, reading his discomfort perfectly. "You're her father. You have to properly meet."

Vegeta frowned, forcing himself to stay still. He watched as Bulma let go of his hand, adjusting the way she was holding Bra so that she could hand the baby to him. He uncomfortably cleared his throat. Holding a doll at the fathers training session was one thing. It was inanimate, it couldn't be harmed. This was a real, living, breathing infant.

"Bulma…I've never…"

"I know. It's okay. I'll show you how."

Vegeta reluctantly shifted, watching as Bulma gently placed his daughter into his arms. "The most important thing is to support her head and her neck. There you go, just like that. See? You're a pro. The Daddy Boot Camp paid off," she teased, smiling as Vegeta held the little girl delicately, like she was the most fragile thing in the universe.

"She barely weighs anything," he quietly said, marveling over how small his newborn daughter was. He had thought Trunks small the first time he saw him, but it was nothing like this. His eyes raised up to Bulma's. "And you're _certain_ this is normal?"

"Yep, Trunks was the same size," she gently told him, her blue eyes sparkling. Watching the man who had once rejected her and Trunks hold their newborn daughter so tenderly was something she would have considered an impossible pipe dream when she first invited the Saiyan to stay in her home, so long ago. She had never loved him more.

Vegeta caught her look, and they stared at each other for several long moments, a content gaze that didn't need words. The prince finally looked back down when the baby snuggled into his chest and yawned. Even as he felt a fresh mountain of responsibility on his shoulders, he was utterly mesmerized.

As gently as he dared, he hesitantly touched the baby's hand with one finger, awed at how soft her skin was. Some of the lingering poisonous pieces inside of him died when Bra wrapped her little hand around his finger, and he felt the strength in her grip just as he felt the movement from her tail in her blanket. He couldn't help the pride that overwhelmed him, or the genuine smile that spread over his face.

 _I'll do right by you, princess,_ he silently swore. _The best I can._

Bulma and Vegeta both looked up when Trunks suddenly came into the room. The teenager was grinning from ear to ear, immediately going over to his father's side.

"Is that her? Let me see!" he eagerly said, leaning over his father to look down at his little sister for the first time. His grin grew as he looked back up at his parents. "Can I hold her?"

"Of course," Bulma smiled. "She's excited to meet her big brother."

Vegeta stood up, and gently put his daughter into his son's arms. "Hold her properly, boy," he growled in warning.

Trunks did. He had paid diligent attention during the training class he'd taken with his dad, and he was ready to embrace his role as the best and coolest big brother on the planet. He looked up at Bulma, scanning her over. "Are you okay, Mom?"

"Now I am."

Vegeta hung back, watching as Trunks went and took his spot next to Bulma on the bed. Trunks in particular was eager to take out his phone and start taking pictures of his new baby sister. He and Bulma were both smiling and gushing over the new addition to the family.

 _His_ family. The prince watched them for some long moments, feeling more protective of the three of them than he had ever felt before. How he could have ever shied away from the concept of a family was unfathomable. That he could have once believed family made a man weak was ludicrous and laughable. He had never felt stronger in his entire life, not on any battlefield, than he did right that moment.

Bulma was right. He had always had a choice, not just in his daughter's name, but in his life.

And his family was his best one.


	12. It's a Saiyan Thing

It was 3 in the morning, dark and quiet on the compound of Capsule Corp, with everyone sound asleep. Everyone that is, except for the two-week-old baby that began to stir on the third floor of the domed building. Bra gurgled a little, and then started sniffling, getting ready to cry right as Vegeta's eyes slowly opened. He frowned as he glanced at the nightstand, seeing the lights flare up on the baby monitor in their bedroom. Of course, he didn't need it – he could sense the child with ease. Regardless, having a newborn was costing him good sleep.

The prince yawned as he rolled onto his back, running a hand over his face. Sleepless nights were a trademark in his life as a soldier in Frieza's army, but over the decade-plus that he'd lived on Earth, he had gotten used to sleeping more than an hour or two a night. Since Bra had been born, however, things weren't easy on the new parents when it came to getting enough rest. Bulma said it had been similar with Trunks. Vegeta stared at the ceiling, not for the first time wondering about how Saiyan children had been raised on the home planet.

Bra started crying, and he heard Bulma shift and groan next to him. "Whose turn is it tonight," she mumbled.

"Mine," he grunted, slowly sitting up. "I got it."

"Mkay," Bulma tiredly responded, reaching up to turn off the baby monitors, both on her side and his (with their mutual exhaustion, they decided on two monitors on either side of their bed – just in case). It would be his duty to turn them both back on once he tended to the baby. She was already half asleep when Vegeta shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. He yawned again and stretched, before standing up. He slipped on a pair of shorts and then quietly exited the room. Father duty called, after all.

Vegeta paused by Trunks' room, frowning when he heard movement. He cracked open the door to peek inside, just in time to see that Trunks was getting up out of bed.

"What are you doing awake, boy?" Vegeta demanded. Startled, the teenager spun around and breathed out in surprise as Vegeta fully pushed the door open.

"Geez, Dad. You scared me."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed. If _he_ had been so poor at detecting others getting near him while he was growing up, he would have never survived.

"I have to check on your sister. Go to bed."

"That's actually what woke me up. Can I come too?"

"Fine," the prince conceded, too tired to argue. He quietly made his way up the next flight in the home, Trunks quickly on his heels.

"She cries so _loud_ ," Trunks whispered as they walked upstairs.

"She doesn't. You're just more in tune with her since she's your sister," Vegeta explained as they got to the top floor. He had decided to have Bra's nursery and future bedroom above his own bedroom, to maximize the protection for his daughter. After all, no one would be able to break in there without him noticing - heaven help them. "I had the same issue when you were an infant," he added.

"Ohhh, so it's a Saiyan thing."

Vegeta grunted, scowling at the words. He wished he knew more about _Saiyan things_ , particularly when it came to infants. Were there traditions he was missing? Customs needed for the children? Unfortunately, he would never know. _At least she is safe,_ he mused silently to himself as he opened the door to the baby's room, and turned on the dim night light. That knowledge would have to do.

"Get a bottle and warm it up," Vegeta ordered his son, who went to do as he was told. For their convenience, there was a mini fridge and a bottle warmer right in Bra's nursery. While Trunks worked on that, the prince went up to the crib, gazing down at the baby. He frowned when he saw her face reddened as she continued bawling.

"Alright, now, girl. That's enough of that," Vegeta quietly said, reaching down.

He gently slid his hands under her before lifting her out of the crib, shifting to hold her against his chest with one arm. As soon as he did, he felt her tail wrap around his forearm, as though for comfort. Her crying began to subdue almost immediately as he grabbed a blanket with his free hand to haphazardly put around her. Trunks came up to him with a warm bottle, one that was almost twice as large as the one that would be necessary for human children. Bra wasn't fully human though, and she had a ferocious appetite – part of the reason they weren't getting much sleep.

Vegeta took a seat in the recliner they had put in the corner of the nursery, yawning as he did. He took the bottle from Trunks, and offered it to his daughter, who latched onto it immediately. Bra's eyes were opened and looking up at him as she drank her milk, and he looked back down at her as well. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes were soft. He was still getting used to having the baby around, and was mostly still in awe of her. The two weeks he had spent with Bra were the most he had ever spent with any newborn in his entire life. He studied her carefully. She looked just like her mother, a dead-ringer really - but the tail's grip on his forearm was strong, reminding them all of her Saiyan blood.

Still, the tail was another issue. He glanced at it and frowned, wondering what place (if any) there was on Earth now for the Oozaru transformation, especially for a little girl. He didn't want her to lose it, but it was something he needed to give more thought. Bulma had said it was entirely in his domain on what to do, and like most things in his life, he would need time to think about it.

"Can I read a story to her?" Trunks asked, drawing both Vegeta and Bra's attention. The baby tried looking over in her brother's direction upon hearing his voice.

The prince studied his first-born, and quietly gave a nod. He didn't know what being a good older brother meant, but he supposed if he had to pick one before Bra was born, Gohan immediately came to mind. Now with Bra's arrival, Trunks was genuinely impressing both of his parents. Vegeta was proud of him for also stepping up in the role, without even being asked. He watched Trunks as he went over to the bookshelf and scoured for a good selection. He scowled, however, as it started dragging on.

"What are you looking for, classic literature?" Vegeta finally sneered, losing his patience. "Just pick anything."

"Alright alright," Trunks relented, plucking out a book. "Here we go. This is a fairy tale."

"I don't give a fuck what it is-"

"Hey, no cursing around the baby," Trunks chastised him, giving his dad a scowl that was like looking in the mirror.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. Trunks and Bulma were on him _a lot_ about that, but old habits died hard. "Whatever. Just hurry up," he grumbled, looking down at his daughter who was almost halfway done with her milk. Her innocent blue eyes were back on her father, and so he frowned and felt compelled to tell her quietly, "Yes, yes, I'm working on it."

Trunks came over and sat down in front of his father and sister, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He opened the book to page one, cleared his throat, and began.

"Once upon a time, in a land far away…"

* * *

The next day was a quiet, typical Saturday. Trunks was off hanging out with Goten and some other friends from school, Bulma was having some coffee and catching up on what the latest media gossip was, Bra was sleeping, and Vegeta was training in the gravity room. Bulma's parents were coming over later in the evening to spend time with their grandchildren, having recently moved off the compound to give Bulma and Vegeta more space for their growing family.

Outside, someone approached the compound slowly, studying the main domed building that housed the Briefs family. The estate was large now – it consisted of the recreation center which housed all the physical fitness for the employees of Capsule Corp. There was another massive building on the other side of the compound, for research and development purposes. Vegeta now had his own gravity chamber both outside and a massive one deep underground that served as both as another training facility for him, and in the event of a massive emergency, a bunker for their family.

You couldn't just walk into the compound. There were security gates that had to be cleared before you even got to the family home. Unless you were a badged Capsule Corp employee, a member of the family, or pre-approved personnel (the Z fighters), you couldn't enter. The family home in particular had another layer of security and was sectioned off. As Capsule Corp grew into more of a powerhouse over the years, Bulma's fame had skyrocketed. With that, came more media intrigue, especially into her mysterious husband. It was for everyone's safety on the planet that Vegeta have his complete privacy, so Bulma made sure of it.

The young man walking up studied the security posture which hadn't been there the last time he had visited. That made sense. It had been just over a decade, after all. He could have easily bypassed all of it, but he was taking his time and exploring.

He managed to get up to the first gate, peering up at the top of it, when a guard called out to him.

"Hey, you're supposed to drive up here!" the guard pointed to the side. "The pedestrian entrance is over there, but you have to badge in."

The young man turned to face the guard, his stance casual with his hands in his pockets, his blue eyes curious. "Well, I don't have a badge," he admitted, before pointing to the Capsule Corp logo on the arm of his leather jacket. "But is this good enough?"

"Oh, um," the guard sputtered, at a loss. The young man in front of him looked like a dead-ringer for Trunks, but he was taller and older, in his early twenties. The guard instantly buzzed him in, not even bothering with insisting on the pedestrian entrance anymore. There were always strange things happening in the compound, and it was best not to ask any questions. "Go on ahead," he nervously said. "Sorry for the trouble."

"Thanks," Trunks said, strolling into the compound, a brooding look coming over his face as he took in his surroundings. This was a far cry from how his home looked in the future. It gave him a bittersweet feeling as he walked towards the domed building.

He came to a stop suddenly, turning his head a little to the side. "I was wondering how long that would take."

"It's been a long time, Trunks," Vegeta's gruff voice said from behind.

Trunks turned around, and the two stared at each other in silence, their expressions mirror images. Vegeta looked much the same, but he couldn't say the same for his son from the future. The teenager who had traveled back in time before was a man now. His hair was shorter than it had been before, and he had a hardness in his eyes that the young present-day Trunks didn't have and would never have.

But Vegeta did, and knew the types of things you had to see to get that kind of look. He exhaled slowly, taking him in, for a moment not knowing what to say. He had been a different man when he first came across the future version of his son, and he wasn't prepared for this visit.

"I wasn't sure if I'd see you again," he finally said, arms crossed over his chest.

"Me neither," Trunks admitted, shifting his weight a little as he looked off to the side. "I hope this isn't a bad time or anything-"

"Don't be ridiculous. Come on inside so you can get something to eat. Your mother will want to see you." Vegeta walked on towards the home, with Trunks following just behind him. "Where is the time machine?"

"An hour or so flying from here."

Vegeta turned his head a little. "I didn't sense you when you landed."

"I didn't want you to. Just needed some time to myself, that's all," Trunks said carelessly with a shrug. He cleared his throat a little, before hesitantly asking, "So… you and my mother are still living together then?"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, glancing back at his son. It took him a moment to remember that his relationship with Bulma had never even gotten off the ground in the future timeline. He looked ahead as the gate leading to their personal slice of the compound automatically opened for him, triggered by a body scanner.

"We are. We've been married 11 years."

"What?" Trunks cried, his blue eyes wide with shock. "Really? Like, for real, married?"

"Yes. Like, _for real,_ married," Vegeta drawled.

"Wow," he muttered, entering the house with his father. He wondered what his mother who raised him would have thought. "Wow," he repeated, shaking his head.

"Vegeta, is that you?" Bulma called out from the kitchen. She sighed as she stretched up on her toes on the step stool in the kitchen. "I need your help with reaching a bowl I have in the top shelf here, it's all the way in the back-"

"I found someone else who can help. He is taller than me, after all," Vegeta said as he entered.

Bulma glanced over, and shrieked in surprise just as she lost her balance, "Trunks!"

Trunks was about to react, but Vegeta was faster. The prince easily caught her and steadied her, scowling at her as she did. Neither noticed the scrutiny they were under with their future son standing there.

"Damn female," Vegeta growled in annoyance. "You're going to break your face one day-"

"Oh, hush you," she said dismissively, before rushing over to the future version of her son. Trunks' eyes widened as she embraced him in a tight, massive hug. A look of emotion fell over his face for a moment, before he immediately hugged her back. "Oh, Trunks! I've thought about you and wondered how you were doing, I'm so glad you came to visit! Oh, let me look at you," she said, stepping back from him as she eyed him up and down. She took his face in her hands, studying him intensely. "Wow, look at you! You're a handsome man now!"

"Heh," Trunks chuckled, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. "Thanks, I guess."

"Yes, thanks to me and my gorgeous looks," Bulma beamed as Vegeta rolled his eyes.

"He looks more like _me,_ arrogant woman-"

"Are you hungry? I'll order us all something good to eat," Bulma cut in, grabbing Trunks and directing him towards a seat at the kitchen table. "Oh, your sword! Still travel with it, huh."

"I never go anywhere without it," Trunks admitted, pulling off the strap with his scabbard and sword. Bulma took them from him and went to secure them for him.

"Good," Vegeta grunted in approval, taking a seat as Trunks sat down too. "You're a true warrior, Trunks."

"Yeah…" Trunks said absent-mindedly, his thoughts trailing off. He blinked as he stared at the kitchen counter next to Bulma, before squinting his eyes and leaning forward a little as he stared at the baby monitor. There was definitely a sleeping baby there, all right. He looked at Vegeta in confusion. "My counterpart in this timeline should be what, 12 or 13 right now, right?"

"Right," he said with a nod. "Trunks is 13 years old. He's passing the time with Goten right now and some of their other classmates."

"Goten?"

"Goku's second son," Bulma said with a smile as she came back into the kitchen. "You'll get to meet them both later I'm sure."

"Wow, Goku had another kid," Trunks whistled, shaking his head. He glanced back at the baby monitor and frowned. "Then the baby in the monitor is…"

"Her name is Bra," Bulma said, handing him a glass of water before she took a seat. She smiled gently at him as she added, "She's our daughter. She's two weeks old."

Trunks nearly choked on his water, before hitting his chest a couple of times. He reached up to his forehead, eyes wide with surprise. "Wow," he said, at a loss for words.

"Not what you were expecting, was it?" Vegeta chuckled as he stood. He went to the fridge and pulled out a cold beer, then swapped Trunks' glass of water for the bottle. "Look like you can use one of these instead, kid."

"I just…I knew that stopping the androids and preparing for them would change things. But…wow. It's just a lot. It's so different."

"It is, but it's good, all good things. And all because of you," Bulma told him, touching one of his hands.

"I guess so," he mumbled, frowning a little in thought.

"So what about your world? What brings you here to give us this visit? And most importantly, how am I doing in your timeline, hm? Still gorgeous as always, I presume," she said with a laugh as Vegeta sat back down at the table, handing her a beer and keeping one for himself. The prince rolled his eyes.

Trunks stayed silent for a moment, chugging nearly half the bottle. Vegeta and Bulma made brief eye contact. Finally, he lowered the bottle and sighed. "Well, I defeated the androids, no problem. I wanted to come back to visit to see how things were. But also… well…" his voice trailed as his frown deepened.

"Well?" Vegeta prompted.

"My mom died a week ago," Trunks quietly admitted, his eyes settled on his beer bottle. "And I guess I just…" he lapsed into silence again, not wanting to admit that he just didn't want to be alone.

"Oh Trunks," Bulma sighed. She stood up and gave him a hug. He didn't return it this time. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

Vegeta didn't know what to say. It wasn't a normal scenario for him, grieving a woman when she was standing right there within reach of him. He also didn't like thinking about his wife's mortality. However, he was moved with some emotion he couldn't place seeing his son so distraught. Seeing him bravely enduring his pain, alone in his timeline where he no longer had anyone who cared about him at all.

It was too close a parallel to his own life. But he didn't know how to put any of that into words, didn't even recognize his own emotion for what it was: empathy. And so, the prince thought for a moment, before offering all he could.

"You can stay with us, if you want," Vegeta finally said. "If you have nothing else there in the future, you have a home here."

"Yes, absolutely," Bulma immediately agreed. "This is your home too, Trunks. Our Trunks in this timeline would LOVE you, believe me."

"You're both kind," Trunks said, with a sad smile. "I really do appreciate the offer. But we are rebuilding in my world, and the people who have survived need me to help them do that."

Bulma started arguing, "Yeah, but Trunks-"

"Woman," Vegeta interrupted, drawing her attention. "This Trunks here is a man now. He's been through enough and can make his own decisions."

Bulma sighed deeply, looking at her son. The son she would have had, in another time and place, had things gone according to the original plan. Her maternal feelings were in overdrive, and she wanted nothing more than to have him move in and watch him smile with ease like their present-day son did.

But this Trunks had grown up in another world. A meaner, crueler world of sheer heartbreak. If anyone could understand, it was her husband, and so, she relented.

"Well, if you must go back, then that's what you have to do," she finally told Trunks. He grunted and took another swig of his beer. "But you will _always_ have a home here."

"Thank you," Trunks said with genuine sincerity.

"So, how did she die, and how old was she when she did?" Vegeta bluntly asked, earning a smack on the arm from Bulma.

"Vegeta!" she hissed.

"What?" he said defensively. "Don't you want to know?"

"He's still grieving," she chastised him.

Surprising them both, Trunks chuckled a little. Seeing them interact warmed something inside of him. "It's alright. It was a heart attack. She'd had several leading up to the last one. From all the stress over the years, you know. Plus we never had great food to eat with how badly the androids ravaged everything," Trunks sighed. "She thought it would be good for you both to know, but I doubt it'd be the same in this timeline, since things are so much different here," he added.

Just then, they heard static on the monitor as Bra started shuffling. A moment later, the first sob came. Vegeta and Bulma looked at each other and she sighed.

"Well, that nap didn't last as long as yesterday's," she told him, before her blue eyes brightened. "Hey! Why don't you take up Trunks to go see Bra? He has to meet her properly!"

"Oh, well," Trunks started, suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm not really great with kids that young-"

"Join the club, kid," Vegeta snorted. With that, the prince downed his entire bottle of beer in one shot, before rising. "Come on now, let's go. You need to meet your sister," he said with authority.

Even though Trunks was 23 years old now, and hadn't been raised with Vegeta, he knew better than to challenge that tone. He got up and quietly followed after his father as he was led to the nursery, growing more curious as he approached.

 _A nursery. A second child. A sister!_ Trunks shook his head. He wished he had come back sooner so he could have told his mom all about it. Just another regret to notch under his belt. He buried his hands in his pockets and sighed.

Trunks went inside the nursery with his father, just like his present-day counterpart had done less than 24 hours ago. Vegeta walked up to the crib, and expertly and gently picked up the baby while Trunks watched in sheer awe. _This_ was the same man who used to berate him, ignore him, and beat him when he was here last? This man, the same one who was content to let Bulma and his infant son die without lifting a finger to help? Trunks could hardly believe it. This was the man that Vegeta never got to be in his own timeline, and he could only marvel at the sight.

"Looks just like her mother, unfortunately," Vegeta gruffly said with a scowl. The baby had quieted down in his arms, her blue eyes wide and clear as she stared up at him. "Yes, you don't have much of your father's attractiveness, do you, girl?" he asked. "Well, no one is perfect."

He turned to Trunks and extended Bra to him. "Care to take her for a moment while I prepare her nourishment?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Trunks stuttered a bit, before Vegeta came over and placed the baby gently in his arms.

Trunks stared down at the girl, a whirl of emotion going through him. She wouldn't have existed at all, if it wasn't for the time travel and his warning. If it wasn't for _him._

 _If it wasn't for Mom,_ he thought sadly, looking down at the baby girl that had Bulma's eyes. Trunks swallowed heavily, his eyes burning with tears that he valiantly held back. He had not expected this, to find a baby sister, and he found himself wishing his own mother could have known, even seen a picture of the baby. The emotion brought a huge knot to his throat.

Vegeta turned to him then, easily smelling his tears, and Trunks tensed as he braced himself for a harsh response from his father. Instead, the prince put a hand on the back of Trunks' neck and gave it a squeeze. Trunks released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, holding the baby in one arm and reaching up with his other hand to wipe at his face.

"She likes her brother," Vegeta commented, ignoring Trunks wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. Trunks looked back down. The baby did seem to be liking him. She even seemed to be smiling a little.

"Yeah, I guess so," he awkwardly said. "A tail, huh? I was born with one too, but Mom cut it off. Said the transformation would make me too much of a target for the androids."

"Makes sense," Vegeta conceded, frowning. "It is good to have you here. You should come back more often. Gods know I need _someone_ good to train with around here," he grumbled. "Your counterpart here is more interested in Snapchat."

Trunks smiled a little. "Yeah. I'll think about it."

"Bra doesn't seem hungry right now, shockingly. I'm sure she is saving her hunger for 3 in the morning," Vegeta snorted, before turning away. "Spend some time with the girl. I'll go see what time the food will arrive."

"Father?"

Vegeta turned back, raising an eyebrow. Trunks reached into his pocket, pulling out a note. He extended it to his father. "Mom wrote this note for you after the second heart attack she had. She asked me to give it to you, the next time I came back."

Vegeta hesitated for a moment, then frowned. He grunted and took it from Trunks, and then tucked it into his pocket as he left the room. Trunks watched him leave, then sat down in the recliner with the baby, for what felt like a very long time.

* * *

"This is _so_ weird," Trunks muttered under his breath, as he stared at his future counterpart later that night. Future Trunks was looking at him with equal curiosity. "But also really cool," the teenager exclaimed, grinning. "Where'd you get that jacket, huh? I really want one of those."

"Ask your parents. I'm sure they'll get one for you."

"What was your world like? Was it really bad?"

"It definitely wasn't like this one, that's for sure. You're lucky. I hope you appreciate it," came the serious tone.

A nod, and then the equally serious answer, "I do. I appreciate all of it."

Moments later, the two Trunks then went off so that the younger one could show his future counterpart all the video games he had, and all the comics he liked. Dragged him into it, was more accurate. Vegeta could sense them both upstairs, as he took a seat on the sofa with Bulma, who was holding the baby.

"This tail is so crazy," Bulma said as Bra had it wrapped around her wrist.

Vegeta snorted, before taking out the note from his pocket. It was folded, and he showed it to Bulma. "He gave me this, it's a note from you in the future."

"Oh!" Bulma exclaimed in curiosity. "Did you read it?"

"Not yet."

"You should."

"Hn," Vegeta grunted, twirling it a little on his fingers. He looked up again. "He's different from our Trunks."

"That's to be expected. But hey – they like the same pizza toppings," Bulma laughed. "It's still Trunks, in some ways. But I know what you mean. He is different from ours for sure."

Vegeta fell into silence for a moment, an intense look in his eyes as he glared at the TV. He put the note back in his pocket.

"What is it?"

"I just… bah, never mind," he grumbled, going to stand.

"No, tell me," Bulma insisted, tugging on his arm with her one free hand. Vegeta sat back down, a tight look on his face that she couldn't quite place.

"The last time he was here…I didn't…I wasn't the best," he finally relented. "Especially with him."

"Sweetheart, that was ten years ago," Bulma gently said to him, finally recognizing the guilt on his face.

"He's had it hard enough." _I didn't need to add to it._

"Well, he's here now. It's a chance for new memories."

 _I suppose,_ he mused, falling into thought. Bulma didn't push him further, recognizing that brooding look on his face and letting him be.

Later that night, Vegeta was sitting out in the backyard, on a lawn chair as he gazed up at the night sky. His hand was in his pocket, twirling with the note from future Bulma. Part of him didn't want to read it. He knew he'd probably been a complete bastard to her in their timeline, and died a bastard. But, despite the fact that it wasn't _his_ Bulma, he still felt honor-bound to read it. In good time.

A moment later, he heard the backdoor open and the older Trunks approach. The boy took a seat next to him on another lawn chair. Vegeta looked over when Trunks offered him another beer, and he took it.

"You get the tour of all the video games and toys that boy has?"

"Yeah," Trunks laughed. "I showed him my sword too, which he used some app to take a lot of pictures of to show his friends." Silence for a bit, before he added, "He seems really happy."

"He should be. He has everything."

"He's strong too. Stronger than I was at the same age. But then again, he did have you to train him," Trunks chuckled as he took a drink.

Vegeta cleared his throat, frowning as he kept his eyes up towards the stars. "You know, the last time you were here…I was…" he struggled for the right word, before settling on, "…different."

"Oh, for sure," Trunks laughed again. He was definitely more at ease after spending time with his alternate family that day. Hell, he had even gotten to spend time with his grandparents. He couldn't remember the last time he had even smiled before that day, let alone laughed. It had been a long time. "You're _way_ different."

"I know, but I wish…well, I should have…" Trunks glanced over at his father, but he kept his eyes on the sky. "I should have been more of a man back then. Especially with you. But…I didn't know how. I wasn't prepared for you."

Trunks leaned back, looking up at the sky as well as he tucked one arm behind his head. He took a deep breath, reading between the lines and seeing the apology his father was trying to give him.

"It's alright," Trunks finally said. "I don't hold anything against you. I got a small taste for what you must have gone through growing up. It changes you, you know. Besides," he glanced over at his father who was taking a drink now, "You seem to have figured it out. You've got a great family. I'm really happy everything worked out here for all of you."

They both fell into silence for a time, both looking up at the stars. Trunks had wanted a conversation like this with his father his entire life, and this alone was worth the trip in his mind.

About ten minutes later, Vegeta grunted as he wiped his lips. "How long are you planning to stay?"

"I was probably going to leave either tomorrow or next day. I'd like some time to just explore the planet and see some nice things. It'll give me some good ideas for our rebuilding."

"Hn. I'll have to help Bulma with the child here in about 30 minutes to bathe her. Just in time for a good spar, if you're up for it. Unless you've gotten soft over in that timeline?"

Trunks smirked, finishing his drink. "I'm good for it, but aren't you too old now to keep up?"

Vegeta gave him a glare that would have killed. "We'll see if you can back up that talk."

Bulma was inside in the kitchen with 13-year-old Trunks. They were eating a few more slices of pizza. Well, _she_ was eating a few more slices, but the teenager was devouring several boxes worth. In the distance, she heard what could only have been an explosion.

"Oh, Kami, that scared the shit out of me," she breathed out, startled. Trunks smirked.

"I guess it's not just Dad who has to work on the cursing around the baby," he teased, earning a "look" from his mother. Bra was in a bassinet on the kitchen table, happily sucking on a pacifier. "Anyway, it's not a big deal. Future cool me and Dad are just fighting, feels like a spar," he said nonchalantly.

"What! He's supposed to help me give the baby a bath shortly," she groaned.

"Relax, Mom. It's a Saiyan thing," Trunks chuckled, shoving another two entire slices of pizza in his mouth as he stood up. He wandered away checking notifications on his phone as he chewed, while Bulma rolled her eyes.

A Saiyan thing, indeed.


	13. The Coolest

Six months later, Vegeta was in a foul mood, even for him. He had woken with a headache after having a nightmare, one of his worst in a long time. Then he had to show up for a scheduled spar he had with Goku at the break of dawn (because he was _not_ about to back out of it due to physical weakness). Their spar count had been at 248-254 in Goku's favor with 38 draws. Unfortunately, much to Vegeta's chagrin, Goku had notched another win that morning with their point system they used. The prince's mood had worsened, his headache was now a migraine, he was fairly sure he had fractured something in his foot, and he hadn't even eaten breakfast yet.

And worst of all, he couldn't shake his nightmare.

Vegeta came in through the balcony of the master bedroom, doing a ki sweep. Bra was finally sleeping through the night now, so all was quiet and peaceful for the moment with everyone sleeping. Glancing at the clock, he saw that Bulma's alarm would go off soon.

He stared at her as she slept on, contemplating getting back in with her and going back to sleep. He was tired, and it had nothing to do with how he felt physically. His nightmares had decreased substantially over the years, but despite the peace in his life and his family's constant presence, they hadn't vanished. He doubted they ever would. It was the price he paid for a past he could never shed, and all he could do was endure and ride it out.

Exhaling quietly, he instead turned around and went into the bathroom for a shower. Normally, he was in and out of the shower in a few minutes. That morning, however, he stayed in there long enough that he heard his wife's alarm go off, and eventually Bulma entered the bathroom.

"Morning hun," she called out as she moved about. He didn't respond, prompting her to ask, "How was the spar with Goku?"

Silence again. Bulma brushed her teeth, glancing over at the shower door. Normally, she would have heard some smartass comment about Goku by now, regardless of win, lose, or draw. She could vaguely make out her husband's silhouette through the glass door, and she sighed quietly. She recognized that stance he was in – both his palms on the tiles, arms stretched, his head lowered as the hot water from the showerhead hit him directly on the back of his head and neck. She thought to herself for a moment, before opening the door to their bedroom to check on the baby monitor. Bra was still asleep, so she quietly closed the door again.

Vegeta sighed when the shower door slid open a minute later. He moved one hand to run it down over his face as Bulma climbed in with him and slid the door closed.

"Nightmare?" she asked. He scowled and stayed silent, his wet hair in his face.

They'd been married over a decade now, but despite her always assuring Vegeta that he could talk to her, _really_ talk to her, Bulma could count the times he had opened up about his nightmares on one hand – and even those details were sparse. She massaged his back quietly, examining his old scars while they stayed in silence. She knew them all now, and over the years, had gradually learned the painful story behind each one. When his silence stretched on, she reached around him, hugging him from behind and kissing his shoulder.

After a moment, Vegeta sighed. He reached up and covered one of her hands with his, holding her hand tight against his chest.

Ever since his son from the future had visited, the tale about Bulma's demise in the future timeline lingered in his subconscious. Every nightmare since then had featured her dying in violent and brutal ways, much as he had once disposed of his own victims. It was far from the first time that he had seen this in his nightmares, but with an infant daughter now, it renewed his worries. He had a good thing now, a real family of his own. But if he lost Bulma…

Part of him also couldn't help but wonder if this was what it felt like, when he had brutally torn so many families to shreds.

He didn't resist when Bulma pulled away, grabbing his arm and turning him so he was now facing her. She brushed the wet hair out of his face as they studied each other's eyes. There was a pretty nasty gash by his left eye that looked in need of stitches, no doubt from his spar that morning. There was blood that was running from it, vanishing with the hot water of the shower.

"Tell me," she gently prodded, one hand on his face.

He observed her thoughtfully, brow furrowing. Not for the first time, he wished she was telepathic – it would be easier to show her what he saw and how he felt, than put it into words, especially when he had always struggled to articulate how he truly felt. His migraine pulsed as he finally asked, "If something were to happen to you…what the hell happens to these two children?"

Bulma raised her eyebrows in surprise, moving her hands to his shoulders. "What do you mean? Like if I died?" He just grunted in reply. "Well, you could wish me back with the dragon balls-"

"Not if it's a disease," he grumbled.

"Ahh," she nodded with understanding. "Well, the kids already have trust funds and are already set for life. They'll also have you, so they'll be okay. You're a good dad, you'd be just fine."

His jaw was set as he frowned, but she smiled at him. Her faith in him was second to none, absolute and unflinching. If anything, it had only grown stronger over the years. For the first time all morning, his muscles started to relax.

"In any case, I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, bud."

He rolled his eyes right as they heard Bra start to cry through the baby monitor in the other room. Bulma chuckled as she added, "Well, I guess I am going somewhere, but you know what I mean."

She studied her husband closely as he looked away and stayed silent. Reaching up, she put her hand again on the side of his face and kissed him by the jaw, and then under his ear.

"I love you," she whispered.

He scowled and didn't reply, and then a moment later, she was gone. A short while after that, he felt her with their daughter, and then heard shouting as Bulma tried waking their son, which was no easy feat anytime before 11am. Vegeta contemplated what she said, before sighing as he reached up to massage his forehead. His migraine was terrible. His foot hurt like hell, and he was exhausted.

But the thoughts and the violent imagery plaguing him were quieter now, and for that, he was relieved. He stepped out of the shower gingerly, wrapping a towel around his waist, and made his way into the bedroom.

On his nightstand was a fresh, hot cup of coffee, in his usual mug. The coffee was black - just how he liked it. No doubt placed there by his wife. He sat on the edge of his bed and took the mug in his hand, venturing a drink as he examined his foot. Fractured for sure, just like he thought.

Frowning, his dark eyes skirted over to the night stand again, where he had the note from future Bulma. It remained unread for the time being. Today was most definitely not going to be the day to see what she wanted to say to him, especially when he was certain she just wanted to curse him for undoubtedly treating her and their son poorly in their timeline. He felt shitty enough that morning, so it was best to wait longer. After all, he didn't need to hear anyone tell him how much of an asshole he was when he already knew.

As if on cue, something vibrated in the nightstand. Vegeta lowered his mug of coffee, eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was definitely his cell phone, but only Bulma and Trunks had the number.

He pulled open the drawer and grabbed his phone, glaring at the text message. The number wasn't saved, but it was obvious by the message who it belonged to.

_Hey Vegeta! Great fight this morning! Hope I didn't go too hard on you :D Me, Yamcha, and Krillin are going paintballing with the boys tonight. Let me know if you want to come!_

The phone started to crack across the screen from Vegeta's anger. The prince dropped it in the nightstand and slammed the drawer shut, so hard the frame of the nightstand cracked too.

"Idiot," he growled under his breath.

Standing now, he went about getting dressed so he could make a routine visit to the infirmary regarding his foot. The whole time though, he was wondering exactly what _paintballing_ entailed.

A few hours later, Bulma was sitting on the sofa with Bra in her lap as she watched an engrossing movie. The baby was sucking on a pacifier, and her hair was just long enough now to barely pull into a little pigtail at the top of her head. Bulma was absently bouncing Bra a little bit, but the baby was equally captivated by the big screen TV.

"Woman!"

Bulma jumped with a start, exhaling as she put one hand over her heart. She glared at her husband as he rounded into the living room.

"Geez, Vegeta, you're going to scare the baby!"

Vegeta's gaze settled on Bra. The baby hadn't even flinched, perking up and smiling behind her pacifier when her father came into view. Her tail loosely waved as though in greeting.

The prince looked back to Bulma and scowled. He had eaten and napped, then gone to get his foot taped up. He was also sporting some stitches right by his left eye, running into a bit of his eyebrow.

Vegeta had finally started feeling better, and was thinking his day was improving… until he got more texts.

"Kakarot is texting me," he growled in accusation, taking his cell phone out of his pocket and showing it to her, as if she could read the text from where she sat on the sofa.

She looked at him blankly. "Okay, and…?"

"Don't _'okay and'_ me, blasted female. Who the hell gave that imbecile my cellular number?" he demanded, glaring at her with accusation.

"He asked me for it, so I gave it to him," Bulma answered with a shrug. "What is the big deal?"

"Have you finally lost your damn mind woman?" Vegeta yelled in bewilderment. "On what fucking planet-"

" _Language_ ," Bulma hissed, gesturing to the baby.

"She doesn't even understand what I'm saying!"

"How dare you insult our daughter! Just because she's a baby doesn't mean she doesn't understand, she is learning!" Bulma shot back defensively. Far from bothered by their rising voices, Bra gurgled and clapped her hands happily as she continued sucking on her pacifier. "And who cares if Goku has your number?"

"Do you know the kind of messages that fool is sending me?" Vegeta stalked over to his wife, a slight limp in his step, practically shoving the phone in her face. "Look! LOOK!"

Bulma looked, and then tried to stifle her laughter, though she wasn't successful. Indeed, through the cracked screen she could see that Goku was sending Vegeta different smiley faces, and then had started sending him some fighting gifs.

"Well, I think it's great that Goku's finally picking up on some new tech," she laughed. "Anyway, you guys are friends so I don't see what the problem is."

Vegeta would have shattered the phone, had she not reinforced it to withstand his strength. Still, more cracks spread from his iron grip. For a moment, Bulma was concerned – it looked like her husband was about to have an aneurism.

A low growl came from his chest, before he snarled, "Woman, if you EVER say that to me again, I will contemplate a divorce."

"Ha!" She rolled her eyes, going back to gently bouncing Bra. "You wouldn't even know the first step."

His glare was fierce. "Try me."

"Oh stop being so antisocial, it's going to make your hair go gray," she snickered, making him grind his teeth. She stood up with the baby and walked over to her husband. "I also gave him your number because some of the guys are going paintballing tonight. I think it'd be good for you to go with them, let you blow off some steam-"

His tone nasty as he shot back, "Destroying this planet would be a good way to _blow off steam_ -"

"Yeah yeah," Bulma laughed as she handed him Bra, who extended her arms for her father. Vegeta instinctively took the baby, holding her against him with one arm. "I'm glad you're feeling a little better now," she said with a knowing smile when she saw his dark eyes soften as he looked at his daughter with a frown. Bra wrapped her tail around his arm that was holding her, gripping tight handfuls of his shirt.

"Hn. Whatever," Vegeta grumbled, before glaring back at his wife. "What the hell is paintballing anyway?" he irritably demanded.

"It's the most fun thing ever, Dad!" Trunks yelled in excitement as he came into the living room. He was rocking his new leather jacket with the Capsule Corp logo on his sleeve, just like his counterpart from the future. Trunks had even cut his hair much shorter than usual, running a buzz cut along the side just like his future self. His older self was the coolest guy Trunks had ever met, which made sense – it _was_ him, after all. "I'm going too. You basically break into teams and you have paintball guns and shoot paint at each other, and you gear up, like you're a soldier!"

Vegeta's jaw set at the thought of _play acting_ as a soldier. He looked at his son in disapproval. "What is even the point? You and Kakarot and whatever other moron attends are all too fast to shoot with paint."

Trunks smirked. "Mom's a genius though and we don't have normal paintball guns. Let's just say they don't shoot paint at human speed."

Vegeta glanced at his wife, who shrugged, though she couldn't help her smile. "What can I say, my beauty and intelligence are aging like wine," she snickered.

"Do you want to come, Dad?"

"No," the prince said resolutely. He then left the living room carrying the baby as he headed towards the kitchen for another cup of coffee. Trunks followed as Bulma watched them leave, smiling at her little family and happy her husband seemed to be doing better. While said husband had the kids though, she could get back to her movie…

"What's the count now?" Trunks knowingly asked in the kitchen, having noticed Vegeta's limp and his stitches. Vegeta shot him a glare, not responding to that, which made Trunks snicker. "Well I'm sure you'll even it up with Goku soon."

"Shut up," Vegeta grumbled. He put the baby on the counter next to the coffee machine, so she was sitting with her legs hanging over the side. Bra was strong enough to sit up now without support, and it was only then that Vegeta read her shirt that said: "Don't Look At Me, That Smell Is Coming From My Daddy".

He turned his head and yelled back at his wife, "Stop buying our infant children these bullshit garments!"

" _Language!_ " Bulma and Trunks both called out simultaneously.

Vegeta reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, counting so he could calm down. Finally, he sighed and put on a pot of coffee, eyeing Bra who was kicking her feet happily. "You and I appear to be the only sane ones in this family," he grumbled to the baby.

"Hey Dad, so are you like, for real not coming to the paintballing?" Trunks asked eagerly. He lifted himself up on the counter next to Bra. Teasingly, he grabbed a couple strands of the blue hair sprouting from the pigtail on top of her head with the tips of his fingers, pulling them gently. Bra looked over at him angrily as she continued sucking on his pacifier. He snickered. Big brother ribbing had to start early, after all.

Vegeta scowled, watching his coffee brew as he contemplated Trunks' question. He was suddenly reminded of his son from the future.

"Yes, Trunks, I am _for real_ not coming," he drawled.

"Well we had such a fun time last time that we're planning on doing this once a month," Trunks informed him with a grin. Vegeta ignored him as he pulled out a clean mug. "So you can come another time, no prob. In the meantime though, could you train me?"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow in surprise. He looked over both his children, before settling his gaze on his oldest. It had been a while since he had trained with Trunks, and he couldn't remember the last time Trunks had initiated it…perhaps, not since the truth of his past had been laid bare to his son.

Pride swelled in his chest. _Well it's about damn time_. He turned his attention back to his mug as he filled it with hot coffee, carefully making sure Bra didn't get too close, lest she burn herself.

"You can meet me in the gravity room in fifteen minutes," he gruffly informed the teenager.

Trunks frowned. "What? No, not that. I want you to train me to win at paintball."

Vegeta almost broke the handle of his mug. He eyed his son angrily, bottling up his disappointment. "I didn't even know what that fu…" a brief pause, before he continued, "… _blasted_ thing was until a few moments ago. Why the hell would I be able to train you to win at it?"

"Because we do it on a huge arena with tons of spots to hide, that Mom designed just for us. So you have to be good and sneak around, because the arena neutralizes our ki. All you've got is the paintball gun. I thought maybe you'd be good at it…you know, with the stuff you used to do before you came to Earth…well, probably not with the gun, but with the stealth."

Vegeta looked away briefly, bringing his mug up to drink his coffee. Trunks grabbed Bra and lifted her up onto his lap as he watched his father expectantly. His father's face was serious and unreadable, so he just had to wait.

The prince lowered his mug, his eyes still away from his children. "What makes you think I'm not good with guns?"

Trunks blinked. "Uh, I guess I've never seen you ever use one."

"The ones on Earth are primitive, but that doesn't mean I don't have experience outside of Earth. We were trained to be experts in all styles of weapons."

"Oh," Trunks, eyebrows raised in surprise. He then grinned widely. "Well great! Even more training you can give me."

Vegeta rolled his eyes as he finished his coffee. "I have real training to do, boy. If you want to get better at your foolish _paintballing,_ find someone else to train you."

"Aw come on, Dad! I don't want Goku to win again!"

_That_ got his father's attention. He turned back to Trunks, eyes narrowed. "Kakarot wins at this?"

"Oh god yes. He crushed us last time," Trunks groaned. Goku was a happy go-lucky, easygoing guy, but as soon as he had put on that gear for paintball, the Saiyan had become a complete monster. It was only when he was on the opposite side of Goku that Trunks realized that despite the massive personality differences between his dad and Goku, they both had the same fearsome competitiveness. Trunks had hung in there, eliminating Goten and Yamcha, but eventually, he too was 'taken out' by Goku.

Vegeta stroked his chin in thought. Just then, his cell phone vibrated. The prince could feel his blood pressure rise as he pulled it back out of his pocket, teeth already grinding.

_Hey Vegeta! What's our fight count at again? Gohan was asking, and I forgot how much I'm up by. Am I up 15 or 16 wins?_

Trunks raised his eyebrows as his father's ki started to rise with his rage. He protectively held onto his little sister, just in case, as he watched Vegeta text back.

_7, you fucking idiot. You have NEVER had a double digit lead, and you NEVER will._

A few seconds later, and Goku responded with a crying laughing emoji. More cracks spread on Vegeta's phone before he shifted his intense gaze to Trunks.

"I'm in."

* * *

Later that evening after putting the baby to sleep, Bulma watched as her husband got ready like he was going into battle. He pulled on a black full body armor suit with blue trim that she had given him as part of her paintball suite. The paintball arena had started as a training ground for the military, but her son had pleaded and pleaded _and pleaded_ for the opportunity to try it out for themselves. Finally in exasperation she had agreed. She had rigged up the guns to shoot the paint with enough force that the fighters could be hit without their ki, firing with a space combustible that launched that paint at almost half the speed of light. She had also expanded her ki draining technology to pulse through the entire arena – harmless but completely neutralizing. It was a big hit with her son and all their friends, and she was happy her husband would get to participate too.

Her smile was strained a little though when Vegeta sat on the edge of the bed to put on a pair of black leather boots, and she finally saw how nasty his foot injury was.

"That foot doesn't look so great," Bulma said with a frown.

"I've had worse."

Her lips pursed. "Yeah, but-"

"Remember our deal, woman," Vegeta warned her.

Bulma sighed. She had indeed promised him she wouldn't fuss over his injuries from his spars and training, so long as he saw the medic in the infirmary if the injuries were visible. She had even hired a stoic, no nonsense, no small talk medic who asked no questions and just got the job done when Vegeta entered, and so the prince compromised and used him when necessary.

He had clearly gotten stitches for the gash by his eye, and had his foot taped up by the medic, neither of which he would have ever done years ago. So now she had to do her part of the deal.

"Alright alright," she relented. "Oh! I got a call today that Bra is on the waitlist now for a preschool genius boosters program."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Woman, the child cannot even walk or speak yet."

"So? It's the best preschool in West City! She can start there when she's 2, so she can socialize with the other kids."

The prince grunted and stood up. All he heard was "best preschool" and that was good enough for him. Only the best for Saiyan royalty, after all. He looked over his paintball armor, testing out the gloves as he made clenched his hands into fists. He was wondering how it would hold up in real battle when Bulma whistled.

"Wow. You're looking great in that uniform, hon. Very sexy…"

He recognized that tone, flashing her a devilish smirk. "Tch. You will have to wait until I come back for that."

She gave him a sly look. "Well then, I guess you better come home fast."

"Alright!" Trunks hollered as he barged into their bedroom. He looked at his dad in approval. Both father and son were in matching body armor. "I'm ready to roll, Dad! Let's go!"

"Impatient brat," Vegeta grumbled, but Trunks was already dashing out onto their balcony. The prince cast a side glance towards his wife. "And don't forget to change my cellular number while I'm gone."

"Aw, but we have a group chat that you can be part of," Bulma teased. His nose twitched as he glared at her while she walked up to him. "Careful out there tonight, sweetheart. You're in extreme danger of having a little fun."

"You're completely insufferable," he sneered.

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Love you too. Oh! And since you're going out, pick up some diapers on the way back home, will you? We are on our last box now for Bra."

More father duties. He scowled, begrudgingly conceding that those duties would never end, no matter what age his children were.

"Fine, but _only_ if you get rid of that indecent shirt she was wearing today."

"Deal," Bulma agreed, keeping to herself the fact that Bra was starting to outgrow it anyway.

"HURRY UP, DAD!" Trunks yelled from the balcony. Vegeta rolled his eyes and left the room, joining his son, who let out a dramatic huff. "Finally," Trunks muttered.

Vegeta gave him a look of warning. "Watch it, boy. Now go on and lead the way."

Twenty minutes later, Vegeta was putting on his Bulma-reinforced helmet with his face shield. Fortunately, the glass of the shield was tinted from the outside, so no one could see him. He crossed his arms and stood in the back, observing the arena before him.

Laid out over a two mile radius in front of him, in an empty outdoor valley, was a digital landscape for urban terrain that could change and solidify for each paintball excursion so it was never the same twice. It was brilliant, he conceded to himself, unsurprised that it was designed for military training.

_Frieza would have loved this,_ he brooded. He was grateful for the shield covering his face, lest his son see the certain hatred in his eyes.

He struggled with the visions from his nightmare the previous evening, when Goku suddenly teleported in. Tense and prepared for his arrival, Vegeta didn't react – that is, until the younger Saiyan came and clapped him on the back.

" _Don't_ you fucking touch me, Kakarot!" Vegeta venomously snarled, angrily brushing him off and moving away.

Goku just laughed. "I'm so glad you came out, Vegeta! It'll be so fun!" he said happily. "Also since I have your number now, do you want to join our group chat? Trunks is already in it."

The prince growled, suddenly questioning all of his life choices, when he sensed Yamcha and Krillin drop in. Goku called out to them and went over to say hello. Trunks in turn, finally stopped goofing around with Goten as he approached his father, extending him a rifle. Vegeta took it and examined it, feeling its weight.

"They're just like the replicas we practiced with," Trunks told him, grinning as he put on his own helmet.

Father and son had spent that whole afternoon training together as Vegeta taught him a myriad of techniques for moving in stealth, engaging in surprise tight close quarter combat without using his fists, and how to properly handle a rifle. Trunks suspected it wasn't even all of what his father knew on those topics, not for the first time reminded that Vegeta's skillset included a hell of a lot more than just hand-to-hand combat. He wisely did not ask more details though on just how the skills had been acquired.

"Alright folks, let's get this thing going," a human man called out.

The warriors all approached, all wearing their helmets and carrying their superhuman paintball rifles. All except for Goku, who was doing some intense warm-up stretching towards the side. Vegeta glared at him then looked at the others. They were all wearing matching black body armor uniforms, except the trim on Vegeta and Trunks' armor was blue, Goten and Goku's was red, and Yamcha and Krillin's was green.

Krillin offered him a friendly wave, while Yamcha only looked in his direction, but Vegeta pretended not to see any of it. Krillin and Yamcha looked at each other, both already knowing the prince would not be taking his time and that this was suddenly going to be more intense than usual.

"You guys are going in team mode today," the man continued. Vegeta looked at the man's shirt, seeing a Capsule Corp logo. "When you're hit, your rifle will automatically be disengaged and disabled. Ms. Briefs extends her good luck to all of you and says, and I quote, to _try to have a little fun._ "

Vegeta rolld his eyes before following as they were allowed to enter the arena, which shifted into an abandoned city. As soon as he entered, he felt his ki drain from him. He and Trunks were escorted to their starting position as the other teams were as well, far away from each other.

Quite against his will, Vegeta felt a rare inkling of excitement when he couldn't sense the humans or Saiyans no matter how much he tried. This was actually going to take him a little effort, which was just fine – he was eager to shoot Goku in the face.

A beep pulsed through the arena, and then the game was on.

Vegeta moved quickly and silently, forcing Trunks to keep the pace as they moved through the urban terrain. The prince finally came up next to a building, right up to the corner, and motioned for Trunks to stop. Trunk did, listening intently as Vegeta crouched down and picked up a rock.

Without warning, Vegeta launched up the rock, and then Trunks heard what sounded like glass breaking as paintball blasts were shot. Father and son then rounded the corner, seeing Yamcha and Krillin both firing into windows on the side of another building.

Distracted by the noise the rock had made, they didn't stand a chance. Trunks fired and shot Krillin in the back, knocking the older warrior down to the ground with a yelp. Yamcha turned around in surprise then, only for Vegeta to fire at him, shooting him with a round of orange paint which forcefully hit him right between the legs in the crotch.

Yamcha howled and dropped, cursing Vegeta loudly for all to hear. Vegeta lowered his rifle a little and smirked, before motioning for Trunks to follow as they got away from Yamcha's curses.

Meanwhile, Trunks' heartbeat was pounding as he wanted to woot and holler in excitement. He wisely though kept his inner excitement to himself as he kept pace with his dad as they slowly stalked the terrain. They had already taken Yamcha and Krillin down, in under a minute. Bringing his father in had been the best idea ever, and he was glad he had needled and prodded Goten over the last month that there was no way in hell Goten and Goku could beat him and Vegeta if they teamed up. Sure enough, Vegeta had been invited, and now he was going to have gloating rights for a whole month-

Trunks' thoughts were then rudely interrupted when he was shot right in the leg with a painful blast of yellow paint. The teenager cried out in surprise, dropping down. Vegeta turned around and immediately fired at the culprit. Goten was in a sniper position on top of a building, and he tried rolling out of the way but was caught in the arm with orange paint by Vegeta's shot. Goten hissed in pain, shaking his arm as the prince ducked out of sight. Trunks sat up, removing his helmet and muttering curses under his breath.

And then there were two.

_Come out, come out, Kakarot,_ Vegeta mentally goaded the other full-blooded Saiyan. He heard a laugh in his mind.

_If I beat you at this, do I get another win added to the count?_ Goku innocently asked.

Vegeta smirked and didn't reply. Goku wanted to bait him, but he wouldn't allow it.

_How about if_ I _win, you stop texting me with your endless stupidity?_

_And if_ I _beat_ you _, you join our group chat so you can get the memes we send._

Vegeta grit his teeth, but he would not back down. Besides, he could always throw his cell phone in the ocean if he really had to.

_Deal,_ he agreed. Reaching into his pocket of his uniform, Vegeta pulled out a handful of capsules. He made sure he couldn't hear anything, and then clicked them all rapidly and threw them out as widely as he could.

Goku was straining his senses to hear Vegeta or catch a glimpse of some motion when one of the capsules exploded in his line of vision. Goku shifted the rifle to the sound, and then he screeched when an enormous cardboard cutout of a doctor appeared, holding a large needle.

He started firing paintball rounds at the cardboard, destroying it to pieces, when he was suddenly knocked down hard on his back, orange paint splattered over the glass of his helmet, cracking the glass but sparing Goku's face.

"I win," Vegeta boasted, removing his helmet as he smirked down at Goku. The younger Saiyan removed his helmet too, frowning as he looked up at the prince as the urban terrain disappeared around them and their ki returned.

"That was cheating," Goku complained.

"Winning is winning, Kakarot," Vegeta grinned. He pointed his rifle at Goku in warning. "Now don't text me again."

Vegeta grunted then as Trunks suddenly launched into him, hugging him tightly and too excited to care about his dad's discomfort while the others were giving Goku crap for getting startled over needles at the worst possible time.

"You did it! We win! Way to go, Dad!" Trunks shouted happily. "You set a record for how fast you ended it!"

The prince uncomfortably disentangled himself from his son, before grunting. He looked bored as he held his rifle up, resting it back over his shoulder, but deep down he was pleased the day had ended much better than it started.

"Was there ever any doubt?" the prince snorted as he turned away. Trunks grinned as he looked at his father in admiration.

Turned out that his future self wasn't the coolest guy Trunks had ever met, after all.


	14. First Kiss, First Steps

Several months later, Bulma slowly woke up to a cozy warmth. It was fall now, and she could see the changing colors of the trees through the opening in the dark curtains of their bedroom. She was wrapped up in her two favorite things: her delicious thick warm comforter, and her even more delicious and warmer Saiyan. Vegeta was holding her from behind in his sleep, his chest against her back, his breath on her neck as he snored softly. His arm was securely around her waist. He was hot, hotter than usual, and she could feel that he was sweating.

She tried to stretch as much as she could, prompting Vegeta to unconsciously pull her closer as he fully settled himself against her with a sigh. Bulma suppressed a giggle when she felt that he had an erection in his sleep. No doubt, a dream featuring her gorgeous self. She wiggled her butt against him in an effort to wake him, making him grunt.

"What're you…doin…" her husband mumbled in one breath, still mostly asleep.

"You," she said simply, turning in his embrace.

Vegeta grunted again as she pushed his chest to roll him onto his back. He turned his head away, jaw slack, his eyes fluttering a little as he vaguely felt her hand roaming his bare chest. He was indeed still mostly in the midst of a wonderful dream, which featured him on Namek looking for the dragon balls. Bulma had collected them all in the dream, and had flirted with him asking him what exactly he planned to do about it, thus prompting him to strip her down and take her right there in the cave…he unconsciously licked his lips as Bulma raised her hand from his chest to his jaw, turning his head back towards her and giving him a kiss to wake him fully.

Her playful mood was killed though when he abruptly pulled away. Awake and alert now, Vegeta frowned at her.

"Your breath stinks, woman," he bluntly said. Bulma sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Jerk," she grumbled, pulling away from him. She moved to her nightstand and grabbed a breath strip, which she popped into her mouth. "Not all of us have freakish alien genes that keep us from having morning breath."

He chuckled as he interlaced his fingers behind his head, giving her a maddening smirk when she looked back at him. "What can I say? My genes are superior in every way to you humans."

"Oh?" Bulma asked, slowly crawling her way back over to her husband. "What about genes that dictate looks? I think humans can compete with Saiyans there. There's a reason I'm as gorgeous as I am, you know."

Vegeta snorted. "You, gorgeous? Says who?"

"Says this," she breathed, running her hand down his chiseled abs, reaching down under the comforter at his waist. He swallowed as she wrapped her soft hand around his erection. "You were dreaming of your beautiful wife, weren't you?"

"Arrogant woman. You aren't the only attractive woman in the universe. Perhaps I was dreaming of a former conquest." He was trying to sound annoyed, but he just swallowed again when she kissed a scar on his chest, her hand slowly stroking him.

Bulma's laugh was husky. "Uh huh," she knowingly said, kissing him again on his chest as she slowly moved her way down, her breath on his skin making him shudder. "Tell me about the dream, cause I'm curious. Who knows? Maybe we can make it a reality."

The thought alone made him even harder, which did not escape her notice, tight as her grip was on him. He was breathing heavier now as she kept moving her kisses lower, now just under his abs.

"We were on Namek, looking for the dragon balls," he breathed.

"Ohhh, where you first saw me and fell in love with me."

Vegeta growled, about to remind her that he had been prepared to kill her when he first saw her, but his reply choked in his throat when she took him deep in her mouth. His eyes slid closed, one of his hands sliding into her hair, a moan escaping him.

Who needed dreams, when his reality was so much better?

Meanwhile, downstairs, a 14-year-old Trunks was awake and grimacing in disgust as he rummaged for a drink in the kitchen. He could feel both of his parents' ki signatures rising, which only meant one thing. This was another reason why he liked sleeping in late. Ever since he had wandered by their bedroom late one night and heard his parents in the heat of passion (and finally realized that their "private training" was actually code for them having sex), he tried avoiding being awake or being in the house whenever his parents were in the mood. Unfortunately for him, his parents had a healthy sex life, so he had to escape often. When he felt his father's ki signature start spiking rhythmically a short while later, he made a hasty retreat outside.

Trunks stepped out of the compound into the fresh air, grumbling to himself. He opened a can of carbonated orange juice, when Goten dropped by, literally landing right in front of him. He was unsurprised; he had been expecting his best friend's arrival.

"Hey Trunks!" Goten greeted him.

"Hey, what's up, Goten," Trunks said, tossing his friend an unopened can of the same juice. The boys clasped hands in greeting, doing a secret handshake.

"Got your text. What are you doing up so early?"

"The freshmen girls at my school have a soccer game this morning, and I wanna go cheer 'em on," Trunks explained with an easy shrug.

"Uh huh," Goten grinned knowingly. "I think you just want to get a glimpse of Mary. You got a crush, I can tell. You've been talking about her a ton since you started high school."

Trunks shrugged again, but his blush gave him away. "Yeah, alright, she invited me to come watch the game," he confessed. "Anyway, it's not far from here, so we can walk. It's a nice day anyway."

"Cool." Goten fell into step with his friend as the boys started walking off the grounds. "Your mom knows you're leaving, right? You don't want to get in trouble."

"I texted her to tell her where I'll be, and that I'll be back for lunch. She and my dad are having sex right now so she'll see the message later," Trunks bluntly informed his friend with a shrug. Goten looked horrified at the admission.

"Guuhhh, that's the _worst_ part of sensing ki," Goten groaned, shuddering in disgust. "Parents doing that is _so_ gross."

Trunks snorted. "Tch. Tell me about it…"

* * *

Several hours later, Bra was gripping onto Vegeta's hands fiercely. He was leaning over the little girl from behind while she tried to walk, her small steps unbalanced, but her father's hands were like steel, unshakeable and steadying her as he slowly walked behind her. Barefoot and with one little blue pigtail on top of her head, she kept trying to walk on her tip toes, even though Vegeta had tried explaining to her that it was the incorrect way to walk. Her tail was waving happily behind her as she sucked on her pacifier.

Finally, the baby had enough. Bra let go of Vegeta's hands and plopped down sitting on her diaper, kicking her feet as if in protest. Her father frowned as he looked down at her in disapproval.

"We aren't done yet, girl," he informed her sternly, making her lean her head back to see him upside down. "How are you going to learn to walk, if you refuse to practice?" he pressed.

Bra's blue eyes watered and her lip quivered, even with her pacifier. She sniffled once, and the prince rolled his eyes. Telling himself it was only to keep her from crying, he scooped the baby up, holding her against him with one arm. She instantly grabbed tight fistfuls of his tank top, smiling and resting her head on his shoulder as he walked them both the rest of the way to see his wife, down in the labs of Capsule Corp. Bulma had invited her husband to join her for lunch that day since she was working on the compound and not at headquarters, and he definitely had an appetite.

Vegeta entered the reception area and made his way over to Bulma's office, inwardly pleased when several employees scrambled out of his way in fear. He never spoke to any of them, as the humans weren't worth his time. He entered his wife's office without knocking, making Bulma look up. She smiled at the sight of them.

"Well look who it is! Two of my favorites," Bulma said as Vegeta made his way over to her desk. "Just in time."

"You got the food ready? I have an appetite," Vegeta gruffly informed her, making his wife roll her eyes.

"Well it's nice to see you too, Vegeta," she sighed as she stood up.

"Whatever."

Despite his gruff tone, he didn't move as she came up to give him a quick peck on the lips in greeting, instinctively putting his free arm around her waist. Bulma pulled away just in time to see the angry look her baby daughter was now giving her.

"Geez, can't I kiss my own husband?" Bulma laughed. They both looked at the baby who looked more relaxed now. To test her theory, Bulma leaned in and kissed Vegeta again, this time on the cheek as they both watched Bra. Sure enough, the baby's features melted into a glare once she saw the kiss. Vegeta smirked in amusement as Bulma tittered, telling her daughter, "Hey kid, I'll have you know that I met him first."

"The girl is just concerned that her father is being kissed by a human," Vegeta smugly informed her. He looked at his daughter. "It's fine, child. Your mother doesn't have any diseases, like the other humans on the planet."

Bulma gave him a pointed look. "You're a jerk, you know that?"

"You married me anyway," Vegeta snickered.

He took a seat across her desk, leaning down to put Bra on the floor. The baby started crawling to the corner where Bulma had set up a small play area for her filled with all kinds of different toys. He scanned her desk when something caught his eye that made him blink in surprise.

"You have a scouter?" he asked. He snatched it up, turning it over in his hands. It had been ages since he had seen one.

"Oh, yeah, I found that with some old stuff the other day. It was Raditz' scouter. I was going to poke around to reference the communications link in it for a new design I'm working on, for our new space fleet. It's outdated for space tech, but it's still more advanced than Earth tech, that's for sure. Well, for now anyway."

"Hn," he grunted, staring down at it. He fell into silence for a moment, before tossing it onto the desk in disinterest.

"Maybe we can use it," Bulma suggested, clicking a capsule. She tossed it to the floor, and 10 large pizza boxes appeared. Vegeta scowled at them, knowing it wouldn't be enough for him, but it would make for a nice small appetizer. It was then that he realized what she had said, and he gave her a disapproving look.

"Use it? For what?" Vegeta demanded. When he caught her flirtatious look as she handed him one box of pizza, he snorted. "Vulgar woman."

"We could make your dream come true," she teased him with a wink, sitting now on her desk as she opened her own box. "You know, a different way to celebrate an anniversary, a little throwback to the past. It'll be me being the gorgeous innocent human genius, hiding all the dragon balls from the big bad Saiyan on Namek."

"Oh? And just _who_ says I'm not still bad?" he drawled.

Bulma pointed with her slice of pizza at the baby playing in the corner. "That kid does. And the other kid who isn't here," she said with a smug smile.

"Hn," he grunted. The prince then devoured the whole box of hot pizza, choosing to eat than to converse more. Bulma was still on her first slice, but she handed him a second box. He opened it and shrugged as he did. It did do _something_ to him, imagining the scenario from his dream play out. If his daughter hadn't been in the room, he may have pursued satisfying a different need than hunger.

"I shall think about it," he finally conceded. "But I _won't_ use that scouter," he added, no argument in his voice.

"Deal." She grinned, taking a bite of her slice. "Speaking of our other kid, do you have a read on Trunks? He should be coming home soon from the soccer game."

Vegeta took another box of pizza down to devour as he grunted. "He is on his way home with Kakarot's clone, and with a human child. He will be home in approximately 8 minutes."

"Oh good. I'll go see him when he's back to give him some pizza."

Vegeta glared at her, opening yet another box. He was discarding the boxes at a rapid pace. "All of this pizza is mine. Give that boy something else," he growled.

"Ohhh, Kami forbid that you share with your son!" Bulma sarcastically said. "It's fine, you jerk. I have a capsule of pizza just for him."

"Good," he gruffly said, moving to the next box. "You want to put the girl down for a nap, or shall I do it? It is that time of day."

It was a mundane question, but she couldn't help the smile that spread over her face. He was much more hands on with Bra than he had been with Trunks, and from time to time, it still warmed her heart. Bra was coming up on her first birthday soon, and they were a far cry away from how things had been with Trunks just before his first birthday.

"Well?" he roughly prompted, bringing her back to the moment.

"I'll do it. I have to go give Trunks some pizza anyway so he can eat."

The last thing on Trunks' mind at that moment though was pizza. He was walking back to the compound with Goten and his crush, fellow high school freshman Mary, and his heart was pounding the whole way. She had blonde hair with blue eyes, and he thought she was the prettiest, even in her soccer uniform. Trunks was grateful he was wearing his Capsule Corp leather jacket, because it gave him a confidence boost, but he was still extremely nervous.

 _Stay cool,_ he told himself once Goten departed. His friend gave him a discrete thumbs up that Mary missed just before he ran off back home, which somehow only made Trunks more nervous. _Stay cool._

"So," Mary said, her gaze shifting over to the Capsule Corp compound. "This is where you live, huh?"

"Yeah," Trunks breathed, burying his hands in his pockets.

"It looks huge!"

"Oh, it's even bigger once you go in the compound. The estate is huge," Trunks boasted. He bit his bottom lip a little bit, before venturing, "Do you…want a tour? I can show you around. Not everyone can go in, you know."

"Oh, that'd be so great, but maybe another time. I'm hungry and I need a shower after the game," she laughed.

"Oh, right, totally," he said with a smile. He cleared his throat a little, feeling like his heart was pounding in his ears. "Uhh, do you live close by? I can walk you home if you want?"

"Aw, that's really sweet. You're a really nice guy, you know that, Trunks?"

Trunks blushed furiously, chuckling as he reached up to scratch the back of his head. "Uh, well, you know, I try," he stammered nervously.

Meanwhile, inside the compound, Bulma was perplexed. She had already put down Bra for a nap, and Vegeta was upstairs changing in preparation for his afternoon training. Her husband said that Trunks should have been home twenty minutes ago, and yet he wasn't in his room, and as it turned out, wasn't in the house at all.

"Huh," she wondered aloud to herself. She went over to the front door of their personal home, hitting a button that instantly pulled up the security cameras around the compound. She saw that her son was just outside the gates to the estate, but then she narrowed her eyes suspiciously when she saw some girl in a soccer uniform talking to him.

Bulma then almost keeled over when she saw Trunks nervously step up close to the girl, and then slowly reach up one hand to her face as he gave her a small kiss on the lips.

The intercom outside of the gates whirred to life immediately, startling both of the teenagers. " _Trunks Briefs! Come inside right now!_ "

Trunks immediately backed up from Mary. He gave her an embarrassed look, blushing as he did. "Sorry, moms, you know," he forced a chuckle.

"I know how it goes, don't worry," she laughed. "See you at school, Trunks," she told him with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, see ya at school," he breathed out, watching her walk away as she bounced her soccer ball on the pavement. He was staring at her in a daze, until his mom's voice blared again.

" _NOW, Trunks!"_

Vegeta was coming down the stairs now in his black training shorts and gym shoes, one white towel over his shoulder and an annoyed look on his face. He scowled as his wife got off the intercom.

"Woman, your screeching is going to wake the girl, so keep your racket down," he told her snidely.

Bulma whirled around to face her husband, her hands on her hips. "Do you know what your son just did? I bet you do, don't you, with your Saiyan thing that you do!"

Vegeta blinked as he paused on the stairs, and then frowned. "What the hell are you on about, female?"

"Your son KISSED a girl!" she yelled.

The prince looked confused, wondering what the problem was. "And? Did he fuck her?" he asked bluntly, making Bulma's jaw drop.

"NO! Well, I…don't think so!" she stammered, her face draining of color at the thought of her precious baby boy losing his innocence.

It was at that moment that Trunks walked back in. "Hey, sorry I'm a little late for lunch," he said sheepishly.

The teenager instantly backed up with a yelp as Bulma advanced on him until his back was against the door. He swallowed hard. That look on his mom's face was never good.

"Who was that girl?" Bulma sternly demanded.

"Oh, uh, she's a classmate of mine," he answered nervously. "I went to see her and some other friends play in a soccer game-"

"Is she your girlfriend? Are you having sex, young man? Are you drinking? Are you doing drugs? I KNEW we should have sent you to a private school-!"

"Mom!" Trunks cried out, both in irritation and embarrassment. "I don't know if she'll be my girlfriend yet, but I'm not doing _any_ of the other stuff!"

"I saw you kiss that girl!"

"Yeah…" Trunks said, blushing now as he realized he had forgotten about the cameras. He looked down a little, gulping. "It was just one kiss," he mumbled.

"Woman, stop your interrogation of this boy. He did nothing wrong," Vegeta cut in, finally coming down the rest of the way down the stairs.

"We don't even know who this girl is!" she snapped at her husband, before looking back at her son. She tried to make him understand, but her words were still coming out angry, "Look, Trunks, she may seem really nice, but you have to be careful! You can't just trust anybody-"

"I think I know who I can trust, Mom!" Trunks yelled back at her, shocking his parents.

A heartbeat later, and Vegeta was yanking Trunks to the kitchen by his jacket. Another split second later, and he opened the door and threw the teenager roughly out of the house, sending him landing hard on the grass.

"You yell at your mother again, _ever,_ and you'll answer to me like a man in the gravity room," Vegeta growled in warning as Trunks sat up in the grass to look at him. The teenager glared at his father, but wisely stayed quiet. "Now stay out here and cool off, boy. We shall discuss this all later," Vegeta told him, and then went back into the house, closing the door behind him.

"Tch! So unfair," Trunks grumbled to himself, getting back up to his feet and dusting off his jacket.

Meanwhile, Vegeta was going back over to his wife, who was giving him the same glare that his son had.

"I didn't need you to do that," she told him indignantly.

"You both need to be separated for a time," he told her almost dismissively, completely unfazed by her anger. "You more than him. What Trunks did is not a huge concern, woman."

"You know that we have to be careful who gets close to Trunks!" Bulma snapped. She folded her arms in front of her chest, looking at him incredulously. "I don't understand how you don't think this is a big deal."

"He is not marrying the girl, all he did was kiss her. Probably his first time ever, going by his embarrassment. He is 14 years old, it is normal."

"Oh? So when Bra is 14, you'll be just fine with some random boy kissing her?" she challenged him.

Vegeta's eyes darkened, paternal rage inside him stirring at the mere thought. "No one will be getting near the girl when she is 14, I guarantee you," he growled.

"But it's okay for Trunks?"

"Yes," he answered simply, making her frown.

"Why?"

"Because he is male," Vegeta answered, as though it was obvious. He crossed his arms over his chest to match her stance, scowling at her. "He has urges and it's more natural for a boy to satisfy them-"

"We can't have _double standards_ for our kids, Vegeta!"

"It is not a double standard, woman! One is male, one is female, of course they should be treated differently!" he growled, anger rising through his chest.

"No, that's not how this is going to work!" Bulma yelled at him in exasperation. "If we allow one to do something as a teenager, then we allow the other, or we don't allow either! We aren't going to pick and choose!"

"You think for _one second_ that I'm going to allow my daughter to have _boyfriends_ when she is a teenager, like…" he paused.

"Like what?" she asked dangerously. He looked away angrily. "Go on, say it. Like me?"

A low growl rose through his chest, before he snarled, "You were only 16, you were too young to get involved with _him_. If I was your father, I would have never allowed it!" he yelled.

"Well you aren't my father! And _newsflash,_ let's not compare what I did at 16 to what I'm sure YOU were doing at 16!"

A muscle in his jaw twitched from how hard he clenched his teeth. "Don't go there, Bulma," he warned.

"I don't judge you for that, any of that, you know this. But don't judge me either, Vegeta," she told him fearlessly. They stared each other down for several moments, their eyes simmering in anger, before she finally added with no room for argument, "He is not dating at 14, and neither is she."

More angry staring. Vegeta's stare was hard and intense, but hers was equally as intimidating. They were perhaps the only ones who could stand their ground against the other when they were this angry, and so neither moved or spoke for almost one whole minute.

"Fine," Vegeta finally spat out angrily. "Then how old is acceptable for _both_ children, in your mind?" he sneered.

She thought about it, drumming her fingers along her arm. "17. Then they can explore dating while still under our roof, so we can make sure it's all okay."

The mere thought of his little girl, who was only starting to learn how to walk, dating at 17 years old made Vegeta feel like his head was going to explode. Bulma had confided in him that it was the age she had first had sex, and the same had been true for him out in space. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to calm down as he counted silently to ten. It hadn't _seemed_ like he was too young at the time, but now as a father, oh how his views had changed…

"Fine," he bit out, feeling a vein pulsing. "At 17, they will both…be allowed…to _date_ ," he could barely force the words out, in particular when it came to Bra. "Everything _supervised,_ " he growled.

"Fine," Bulma agreed. Although she still looked annoyed with him, it seemed to him that she was less angry now.

He grunted. "And what about this girl now with Trunks?"

Later that evening, after everyone had calmed down, Trunks was sulking in his room. He was listening to rock music through his headphones while he played video games on his cell phone. His parents were chill most times and things were usually fine; when they weren't chill, however, they could really be the freaking _worst._ It wasn't his fault that he had been born into a wealthy family after all; he just wanted to do normal things like a normal kid.

He didn't look up when there was a knock at the door. He knew who was on the other side.

"Come in," he called out.

Bulma opened the door and stepped into the room, with Vegeta coming in behind her, carrying Bra with him in one arm.

"Family meeting time!" Bulma announced.

Trunks sighed and pulled down his headphones, pausing his game. He looked at his parents expectantly, crossing his arms over his chest and braced for a lecture.

"Your father and I have decided, that you are too young to be dating anyone right now," Bulma told him, getting to the point. Trunks pursed his lips, brow furrowing, but remained silent as she continued. "We think at 17 you can start dating _someone your own age,_ if you want to."

"17!" he cried out in dismay. "That's FOREVER from now. I really _like_ this girl, Mom."

"If we meet her and her parents, then you two can spend _supervised_ time together, and even hang out here with _doors open._ But you are most certainly not ready to have a girlfriend, young man. You can't even keep your room clean," she said, gesturing to his messy bedroom.

"What is it that you even want with her anyway, boy?" Vegeta asked. "Do you want to have sex with her?"

Trunks looked mortified, blushing again. "Oh god, Dad, I don't want to talk about this," he groaned dramatically. He was still tortured by the fruit demonstration his dad had given him years ago. "I just…I just like her and want to hang out with her. I'm not interested in…sex, you know," he said uncomfortably. "It doesn't even sound like a good time from what I can tell, honestly."

Bulma blinked. "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I could tell when you two…you know!" Trunks said with a wild gesture of his arm, flustered now.

It was his parents' turn now to both look mortified. They glanced at each other, and then looked back at their son. Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "Sound and ki signature?" he asked. Trunks nodded, and Vegeta snorted. "Figures."

"I can fix both of those problems, so you don't have to be traumatized," Bulma offered.

"Thank you so much, Mom, that would be great," Trunks sighed with relief.

"Also I'm sorry if I embarrassed you with this girl," Bulma genuinely said to her son. He gave her a serious but studious look, and she couldn't help her smile as she was reminded of her husband. "I think I just, I don't know…kind of panicked seeing you with a girl. Oh, you're growing up so fast, Trunks, soon you'll be off to college and moved out!" she exclaimed, unable to hide her emotion. Vegeta rolled his eyes but wisely stayed silent.

"Well not just yet, don't worry," Trunks chuckled as he got up. He went over and gave her a hug, which she readily returned. "I'm sorry I yelled."

Bulma pulled away after a moment, looking calmer now. She looked at her son happily for a few seconds, before her lips pursed. "So…what is her name? I should start looking her up."

Trunks groaned, "Mom…"

"What?" Bulma huffed.

Vegeta snorted then, making Bra squirm in his hold. The prince gently lowered her to the floor, and then offered his hands as he leaned over for the baby to hold onto if she wanted to stand. Bra grasped onto his hands, shakily standing.

"You two, look at this," he ordered, drawing his wife and son's attention.

Vegeta gradually started pulling his hands away as Bra started easing her grip, and then she let go of his hands. The little girl wobbled for a moment, but remained standing, using her tail for balance. Everyone was holding their breath, all eyes on her, no one daring to move a muscle. Bra took one small, shaky step forward on her tip toes, wobbled some more, and then took another hesitant step, before she finally fell back on her diaper.

"YOU DID IT!" Bulma cried out happily as Trunks gave a holler of excitement. Bra was happily sucking on her pacifier as Bulma scooped her up, raising her up happily. "You walked, kiddo!"

Vegeta was looking as though he had won a battle, his arms crossed over his chest and a look of smug contentment on his face as he watched his family. They were now at ease with each other and happily celebrating Bra's achievement. An achievement he had a direct hand in, no less. The pride he felt in that moment was profound, and it was a moment he would remember for the rest of his life.

There was definitely no dream better than this.


	15. Heads or tails

Six months later, Bulma was humming to herself while working her mascara to perfection. She had completed a brand new generation space fleet for the government, with groundbreaking new communications technology that would enable near real-time transmissions from Earth all across the galaxy, and even beyond. Of course, she had already ventured far beyond what the galaxy had to offer when they traveled to Namek, but that was best kept close to the chest. Still, plenty of high-quality engineering had gone into the new space fleet, and it warranted a week off – and, hopefully, a date night with her husband. It _was_ a Friday, after all.

Bulma surveyed the prince through her mirror as she paused putting on her lipstick and smiled. Vegeta was soaking in the bathtub behind her, the hot water filled with soap suds. He had his arms outstretched to his sides along the edge of the massive tub, his head reclined back with his eyes closed. While not the sole reason for it, getting her husband another way to unwind and loosen up was definitely a huge bonus for their recent master bath renovation.

"Told you the renovation would be worth it," she smugly said, continuing to apply her lipstick.

"It's about time you had a decent idea," he grumbled, his eyes still closed. He felt completely relaxed, which was still an odd feeling even years into his life of peace. Instead of overanalyzing it though, he had gotten better at just enjoying the moment for what it was.

"Well, I did have _another_ idea," Bulma teased, earning a sigh from her husband.

"Do I even want to know," Vegeta drawled.

"I was thinking we could go out for dinner tonight, just me and you. We can have ourselves a date night, and you can get your fill at an all-you-can-eat place."

He frowned, though he wasn't entirely surprised. Any time Bulma got more than a few days off work, her need for a "date night" with him always came up. He didn't understand the desire for a date night – all they did was eat dinner somewhere else. But she insisted that they needed to still make time for themselves without the kids for the sake of their marriage, and so he went along with it - mostly because of the "all you can eat" factor. Though it also didn't hurt things that she liked to look extra nice for these outings, and her happiness afterwards would be overflowing, which made for good sex for him later. Win-win-win as far as he was concerned, and all he had to do was tolerate some humans at a distance for a few hours, which he could do. Marriage _was_ about compromise, after all.

"Who will watch Bra?" he finally asked.

"Trunks could take care of her. We can leave after the baby is asleep for the night, and once she's down for the count, she won't get back up. Plus, we don't have to very far."

Vegeta sighed again. He raised his head and looked over at his wife, who had turned her gaze now directly on him.

"You think Trunks could watch the girl alone for a few hours?" he questioned, his tone incredulous as he raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, he's taken care of her for a half hour here, half hour there. He's 15 now, I think he should be able to do it."

"I'm not sure I share your confidence, woman," he said, scowling. "The boy is still not entirely responsible."

She turned back to the mirror, before giving a casual shrug. "Well, if we never show him trust, how will we ever know?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, before resting his head back. "What about your parents? They are already watching the girl today. They can keep her for a few extra hours, can't they?"

"No, they can't. They're going to a party tonight…you know, a swingers thing," Bulma sniggered in amusement, already knowing it would make him uncomfortable.

The prince squeezed his eyes shut as he groaned. "Gods above, woman, would you stop bringing that up already? I have been trying to forget this shit for years."

"Well, gotta keep marriage interesting over the years," Bulma laughed, leaning closer to the mirror to admire her new short haircut. "Maybe one day, we can try it," she teasingly added.

"I will leave this fucking mudball planet before I ever participate in-"

" _OH MY GOD!_ " Bulma suddenly screamed in terror.

Vegeta was immediately out of the bathtub, dripping wet and covered in soap suds, the water from the bathtub splashing onto the floor. He was instantly at her side, reacting without thinking when he heard the real panic in her sudden scream.

"What? What is it?" he demanded, scanning her over quickly.

"I have a WHITE HAIR," Bulma cried in dismay, leaning closer to the mirror as she brushed some of her bangs aside to find it again.

"Oh for fucks sake, woman," Vegeta snarled, rolling his eyes as he turned away. He headed towards their new shower to rinse the soap suds off his body, irritated now. "I told you not to scream like that unless there is an emergency."

"This IS an emergency!" Bulma shot back, searching through her hair for more white offenders, but she couldn't find any more. "Oh no, I'm getting _old_ ," she whined.

"You and billions of others, who cares," Vegeta sneered, sliding the shower shut behind him and then turning the water on.

"Easy for you to say, you're just going to keep on looking exactly the same!" she shouted over the shower, just as she used tweezers to pluck out the sole white hair. "Meanwhile, I'm the one that's going to age, and then I'm going to look like a cougar next to my own husband!"

It took Vegeta less than a minute to rinse off, before he turned the shower off again. He slid open the door and snatched up a towel, before tossing it on the floor behind Bulma that was drenched because of him. With a flare of his ki, he dried himself off almost immediately. He snatched another towel to wrap around his waist, just as his dark gaze settled on his wife in exasperation.

"You already know that Saiyans stay in their prime for a long time," he explained to her, for what he felt was the hundredth time over the course of their marriage. "Plus, it was only one strand of hair. It is not a big deal. You look fine."

Bulma bit her bottom lip, her blue eyes wide with emotion as she stared at him. "But what if this is just how you'll always be? What if I'm an old lady, but you still look like you're 30? I don't want that, Vegeta. It'll be…weird, and awkward."

Vegeta tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling as he took a deep breath and asked whoever was listening for patience. He then looked back down at his wife, his brow furrowed as he took in how she was looking at him expectantly for reassurance. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to give it to her.

"I don't know what you want me to say," he finally confessed.

"Fine," she said evenly, her eyes narrowing at him. At once, he knew he had answered incorrectly. "Forget I said anything then," she added, anger creeping into her voice now.

He inwardly groaned. "Bulma…" he started, but she was already heading out of the bathroom.

Bulma started opening the door to leave their master bedroom a moment later, when Vegeta abruptly closed it from behind her with one strong hand. She sighed and turned around, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back against the door.

"What is it? I have things I need to check up on in the office."

The prince snorted. "I know you're off work for a week, so don't give me that bullshit."

"And?"

Vegeta glared at her for a few moments, then exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Sometimes your overactive brain is a real hindrance, woman."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Bulma huffed defensively.

"You are worrying about things that you have no control over. You don't know how you will age. As for me, yes, I will age later than you – it takes time to catch up to Saiyans, but it does catch up. What does it even matter?"

"I don't know, I guess it just…makes me wonder how things will be, when you're still young and handsome and I'm…not," she admitted, blushing in embarrassment.

Vegeta was leaning in close to her, clad in just a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, looking every bit like he belonged on the cover of some "sexiest man alive" magazine. She was definitely aging like wine, that was true - but time would catch up to her eventually, before it caught up with him. She bit her bottom lip again, but didn't break their strong eye contact.

"I don't care what you grow to look like, or what anyone will say if you age before me. You're my wife, that's all that matters to me," Vegeta finally said, his tone leaving no doubt. His dark eyes were almost fiery in intensity as he studied her, just a couple inches from her now. Bulma took a deep breath, exhaling in acceptance as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Vegeta pressed himself fully against her, pinning her against the door, his hands settling at her waist.

"So you won't leave me then, when I'm old and gray?" she asked, only half-joking.

She got her answer when he effortlessly lifted her up against him, making her yelp in surprise. A heartbeat later and Vegeta dropped her on their bed, discarding his towel. Then he was suddenly on top of her, one hand to her face, a dominating kiss making any words die in her throat as he fully pressed himself down on her. Any lingering doubts or insecurities were suffocated, as he completely overwhelmed her senses with his heat and touch, leaving her breathless. They had done this thousands of times, and yet she still couldn't help her shiver when his hand sparked a blue light. Without breaking their kiss, he trailed two fingers lit with his ki from her collarbone, down over her breast, down her stomach, disintegrating her bra and blouse along the way.

Vegeta broke their kiss, cupping her jaw in one hand. His other hand with his ki kept slowly moving further down, and she shivered again as he forced her to look at him.

"Never," he finally answered, before giving her a maddening smirk as he tipped her head back, his free hand brushing open her clothing to expose her skin to him. "Besides, I need _someone_ to help me with your demon offspring."

She laughed breathlessly, sliding her fingers into his upright hair when he lowered his head to her chest, breathing in her scent against her bare skin.

"I forgot to make a reservation for tonight," she breathed, making him chuckle.

"Do it later…"

* * *

Later that day, Trunks came in through the backdoor after school was out, entering the kitchen. He threw his bookbag into the nearest empty chair and then began rummaging around for something to eat. He had his headphones on, humming to himself as he opened the fridge to survey what food options there were. The teenager scowled at the stocked fridge, unimpressed, but he began to pile up some food in his arms anyway for a snack before dinner.

 _Trunks!_ his father's mental voice was sharp. Startled, Trunks nearly dropped all the food in his arms.

 _Geez, Dad, you scared me,_ he sent back, trying to hide his annoyance.

_Get out here so we can talk._

Trunks sighed, cursing telepathy under his breath as he left all the food for his afternoon snack on the kitchen table. He followed his father's ki signature back outside and over to the gravity chamber, where Vegeta was just walking down the ramp, done with his afternoon training session. The prince was covered in sweat, and was using a towel to wipe it from his face. He came down to the grass and unscrewed the top of a water bottle as he settled his gaze on the teenage boy who was standing in front of him.

"What's up, Dad?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, raising the bottle to chug down some cool water. He truly hated that phrase, but Bulma kept telling him it was the "in" thing with the current youth on the planet, and so he could only endure.

"Your mother and I are going out this evening for dinner," he informed his son matter-of-factly. "Your sister is with your grandparents right now for their weekly visit. I will go retrieve her and bring her home. Once she is asleep for the night, we will leave, and you will watch Bra while we are gone. Do you have any questions?"

"Huh?" Trunks blinked. His parents going out once in a while for a date night was normal enough, but they had never once both vacated the house at the same time and asked him to watch over his little sister. "You want me to watch Bra by myself?"

"Your mother seems to think you are old enough and mature enough," Vegeta said, before his eyes narrowed in challenge. "Is she wrong?"

"No no, I can do it," Trunks assured, grinning at the opportunity to prove himself more responsible. It always irritated him when his parents would both leave, and either send Bra with his grandparents or have one of their many friends come over to keep an eye on her, like he wasn't old enough to take care of his own sister. He nodded again. "I can do it, no problem."

"Hn," Vegeta grunted, his hard look scrutinizing Trunks. The teenager's grin turned into a mischievous look as he visibly tried to keep from laughing, making Vegeta's look melt into a glare. "What?" the prince demanded.

"Nothing," Trunks answered, biting his bottom lip even as his blue eyes danced with amusement.

"What's so damn funny?" Vegeta demanded again.

Trunks came up to stand closer to his father, now within arm's reach. The teenager put his hand on top of his own head, then moved it forward towards his father, as though comparing their heights. His hand went above Vegeta's head and into his hair. The prince blinked in surprise.

"I'm taller than you now," Trunks announced, unable to keep the smug look off his face.

Vegeta growled in warning and Trunks quickly got out of arm's reach, laughing as he did. "I'll still beat you down if you test me, boy, your height be damned," the prince snarled.

Trunks just laughed more, turning to head back inside. "Just let me know when you two leave so I can watch Bra."

"Tch…little shit," Vegeta grumbled under his voice after Trunks had gone back inside. He easily leapt up to his balcony, going inside to freshen up before he ventured out to retrieve his daughter from his in-laws. Bulma was off getting her hair done, so he had some downtime.

Vegeta sat down on his bed, frowning. His dark gaze skirted over to his nightstand in contemplation. It was, all things considered, a fairly normal day for him and his family. Now was as good a time as any, wasn't it?

After a minute, he reached out and opened the drawer, and then took out the letter he had been avoiding for quite some time now. He took a deep breath, and then finally opened the letter and began to read.

* * *

An hour later, he dropped down in front of the house where his in-laws resided. He rang the doorbell then looked behind him at the waves. His in-laws had decided to retire in style, settling into a luxury cottage within a stone's throw of the ocean. They had settled into a routine, where Bra spent one full day every week with her grandparents, with Trunks paying a visit each weekend. Both households alternated months in hosting a dinner for the whole family, and Vegeta found he didn't much mind the visits to the cottage when his in-laws hosted. He liked the taste and feel of the ocean air, and found that the waves relaxed him.

He was contemplating asking Bulma if she would be willing to make a similar move once both of their children were grown and out of the house, when the door opened. Vegeta turned back to the door as Bunny smiled brightly at him.

"Vegeta, right on time! Always so punctual," she said with a giggle, extending him a glass of lemonade. "Would you like a drink? This is nice and freshly made." He grunted, taking the glass as he entered the cottage into their living room. "Bra is just in the family room playing with her grandfather. Oh, she's getting so big, isn't she? 18 months old now, goodness, where does the time go?"

Vegeta just grunted again, scowling as he plucked out the straw from the glass Bunny had handed him. He then chugged the lemonade down in one shot.

Just as he handed the glass back, Bra entered the room with quick strides, followed by her grandfather. The toddler could walk with a good speed, but seemed to stop just short of outright running. She had one blue pigtail on top of her head, and was missing a sock, but her smile was huge as her face completely lit up in happiness upon seeing Vegeta.

"DADA!" the toddler shrieked in excitement. Vegeta's eyes softened upon sight of her; something about seeing a child so innocent and so full of _love_ for him still got to him most days. He squatted down as she reached him, and Bra immediately shot herself into his arms, tightly hugging him around his neck. He stood with her, one hand rubbing her back.

"Did you behave today, girl?" he asked her seriously. Bra just giggled as she clutched him tighter. "And where is your other sock?" Vegeta demanded.

"No! No sock!" she whined, as her grandfather chuckled.

"She certainly seems anti-sock and anti-shoe lately," Dr. Briefs said in amusement, before looking at the prince. "And how are you doing, son?"

"Worry about yourself, old man," Vegeta gruffly replied, the same answer he always gave to his father-in-law. "How was she today?"

"Just fine, my boy. She and I spent the whole morning on the beach, and then swimming in the ocean. Then she took a nap and ate a good lunch, and we have been doing some art all afternoon."

"Yes, we love spending time with our precious granddaughter! Bulma also said that tonight is date night between you two?" Bunny asked with a giggle.

"So it seems," Vegeta grumbled.

Dr. Briefs chuckled again. "Well, we'd love to watch Bra tonight, but we-"

"Yes I'm well aware of your plans tonight," Vegeta angrily cut off, not wanting to traumatize his daughter by listening to such vulgar talk. He turned towards the door, not bothering with any items for Bra. She saw her grandparents enough that they had everything she could need there, which was convenient. "Trunks will be by Sunday morning," he reminded them.

"Bye bye Nana! Bye bye Poppy!" Bra yelled back at her grandparents as Vegeta walked out of the cottage, with the toddler blowing kisses back towards his in-laws. He rolled his eyes; it seemed to him that his daughter only had one volume, and that was _loud._ It was something he hoped she would outgrow.

As soon as they were outside, he looked at his daughter who he was holding with one arm. "Time to fly, kid," he informed her, making Bra clap happily.

"YAY! FLY!" she shrieked in excitement. Without another word, she instantly scrambled up Vegeta, sitting on his shoulders and grasping onto his hair. When he didn't immediately take off, she gave his hair a tug. "Dada, fly!" she ordered, her tail waving happily in anticipation.

"Demanding, just like your mother," he muttered under his breath, though he couldn't stop the smirk from spreading over his face.

His ki flared up around him, and he shot up into the air at a frightening speed, taking off towards their home. Most toddlers would have been terrified with the sheer force Vegeta was using to fly, but Bra wasn't a typical toddler, much to his immense pride. The little girl was laughing loudly the whole time they were airborne in both excitement and sheer joy. This was how Vegeta had started transporting her when it was just the two of them as soon as Bra had mastered walking, and she had taken to it like a fish in water. He could sense that she had no fear, and it made a rare smile cross his face. Now this was something he hoped she would never outgrow.

A couple of hours later, Bra was already down for the count, courtesy of Vegeta lengthening their flight home to try to tire her out. Now the prince was in his closet, getting dressed in nicer clothes than usual for his date night with his wife. He could feel her downstairs with Trunks, giving the teenager all the information he needed to take care of his sister for the few hours they would be gone.

Vegeta finally settled on a dark blue collared dress shirt, with black pants and a matching belt. He made his way downstairs to where he could feel his wife and son together in the kitchen.

"The baby monitors are on, don't forget to have one with you at all times," Bulma was telling Trunks as Vegeta walked in. He ignored them both as he went to pour himself a glass of water. "And remember to text me or your dad if _anything_ happens. It should be okay though, because she should be sleeping the rest of the night."

"Mom," Trunks groaned. "I got it. Trust me."

"Alright," Bulma breathed, before turning her attention to her husband as he downed his whole glass in one go. She looked him over and smiled in approval. "Well, well, well, isn't my date handsome tonight?"

Vegeta put his glass in the sink and then turned to get a good look at his wife. Her fresh hairdo styled her short hair perfectly, making him unconsciously lick his lips as he slowly gave her a once over. She was in a light blue dress that fit her body nice and snug, coming down halfway to her thighs. He also noticed new jewelry she hadn't worn previously, along with a dark blue thin scarf that she wore stylishly around her neck. He honestly didn't know what her concern was with aging. She looked more stunning to him than she had ever had.

Trunks looked back and forth between his parents who were flat out ogling each other, and he inwardly groaned. He made a quick escape out of the kitchen before they started _making out_ or something even more gross and traumatizing. "Just let me know when you both come back!" he called back to them as he went upstairs.

Bulma snickered, shooting her husband a playful look. "Shall we?"

He shrugged with indifference. "Fine, so long as we eat soon. I'm hungry."

"Yes, yes, Saiyans and their appetites," she sighed, leading the way outside to her hoverjet. "You have your cell phone? In case Trunks reaches out?"

"Yes, I have it," he confirmed as they both climbed in. He crossed his arms over his chest, mentally reaching out for his daughter. "The girl is still sleeping anyway."

"Good. With luck, she'll sleep through the night, no problem."

Vegeta grunted. Moments later and they were flying, with him gazing up at the night sky. He caught sight of the moon, and frowned thoughtfully.

"There will be a full moon in three nights," he finally said, breaking their comfortable silence.

"Yep, that's what it's looking like."

He looked over at her curiously. "What are your thoughts on Bra's tail?"

Bulma glanced over at him in surprise. "Well, I figured it was your call on that."

"I know, but I am asking for your opinion on it. You _are_ her mother."

She sighed. "Well, I don't really want Bra to experience that transformation when she's little, but if you can teach her how to control it as she gets older, then I think we can all learn to live with it."

"There are no humans with tails, correct? No hybrid humans either, besides the ones we know?"

"It would be news to me if there were other hybrid human kids around that were half alien. The only ones I'm aware of are the kids in our circle." Vegeta grunted at that, and looked away from her again, out the window. "What are _your_ thoughts on it?" she asked. "Are you thinking of having her tail removed?"

He hesitated momentarily in answering. He was torn; on one hand, it was something so unique and important to his Saiyan culture that he wanted to preserve it for as long as possible. On the other hand, Bra could have power that would render the form unnecessary, and likely at a young age if Gohan, Trunks, and Goten were any indication. Trunks hadn't been born with a tail, and Vegeta refused to think of his son as any less Saiyan than anyone else. The kid was only 15 years old, and yet Trunks would have utterly dominated all of the full-blooded Saiyans that Vegeta had ever known at the same age – including himself. If strength was all that mattered, then Trunks was Saiyan through and through, despite his human heritage and his lack of a tail. And if that was the case, then the tail was unnecessary for his daughter, wasn't it?

"I'm not sure," he ultimately answered as Bulma landed the hoverjet.

"Well, it's okay for now. We do a good job of keeping her indoors during the full moons."

He just grunted at that as they both got out of the hoverjet. Vegeta gazed up at the tall skyscraper before them. "Is this it, then?" he asked, unimpressed.

"Yup! A brand new steakhouse just opened at the top, and it spins slowly too, one full spin in an hour. It's neat, you can get a view of all of West City," she informed him in excitement. "And I'm starving, so you must be ready to clean these guys all out of food," she laughed.

She came around the hoverjet, walking over to her husband. Vegeta looked over at her as she linked her arm with his. She gave him a smile as he studied her with a serious expression she couldn't read.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked curiously.

"Nothing," he replied, his intense gaze lingering on her. His thoughts were on the letter he had read as he contemplated the words from Bulma's future counterpart while he stared at his present-day wife. There was nothing he could really say; the letter was from a woman he didn't really know and couldn't even respond to…and yet, the words kept repeating themselves in his mind, the sentiment somehow overwhelming him.

Bulma's eyes widened in surprise when Vegeta abruptly pulled her into an embrace. She laughed a little, slightly bewildered over his rare gesture, though it was a happy surprise. She hugged him back, relaxing against him. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he gruffly answered, pulling away after a few seconds. He scowled and looked back up at the skyscraper, his hands going into the pockets of his pants. "Let's get a move on. I am hungry now."

She smiled knowingly. "Well let's get something to eat then."

* * *

An hour later, Trunks was busy enthralled in his newest video game in his bedroom, sitting crosslegged on his bed. His mom had left him enough money to order pizza, and he had ordered about a hundred boxes worth. With a full stomach, and a baby monitor next to the TV, he was enjoying himself and waiting for his parents to come back home.

He groaned a little when he saw the light flare up on the baby monitor. He kept trying to split his attention between the baby monitor showing his little sister stirring, and his game he was streaming with Goten and some of their school friends.

He was doing a moderately good job of maintaining his attention on both, until his cell phone rang on the bed next to him. Goten then promptly killed him in the game, and the shit-talking over his headset began.

"Shit," he muttered, taking the headset off. He snatched up his cell phone and answered. "Yeah?"

"Is that any way to answer the phone, young man?" Bulma chided him.

"Sorry Mom," he sighed again. "I was just in a game."

"Well I just wanted to check in. Is everything alright? Your dad said that your sister is awake?"

Trunks glanced over at the monitor again. Sure enough, Bra was wide awake now and already swinging one leg over her crib. "Yeah, looks like she just woke up, but don't worry, I'll handle it."

"Are you sure? Because we can come back-"

"No no no, I got it, don't worry, Mom."

"Well alright. We'll probably be another hour so we'll see you later."

"Sounds good."

"Good. Love you."

Trunks glanced down at the headset in his lap, his face furiously blushing as he quietly answered, "Yeah, love you too Mom, see you," before hanging up. He could hear the laughing already coming his headset, which made him roll his eyes. Ignoring them, he left his room altogether and went over to his sister's room.

Meanwhile in West City, Bulma hung up too. She looked up at her husband sitting across the table, but Vegeta was currently devouring a juicy rack of lamb, his tenth that night. She picked up her glass of wine and looked out of their window seat towards the skyline of the city.

"Well, he says he's on it."

Vegeta grunted, cleaning the meat right off the bone. He dropped the bone and picked up some napkins, his gaze turning subtly in the direction of their home. "Good. Had to make sure the boy didn't sleep through it."

Bulma snickered a little, taking a sip of her wine. "Thank you for coming out with me tonight, hon. Date nights are always good."

"If by good, you mean good eating, then yes," Vegeta gruffly replied, as he signaled the waiter for more meat. Bulma rolled her eyes.

"Well they do say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. And I think that's _especially_ true for Saiyans."

They both then looked over to the opposite end of the top story restaurant, where several of the waiters were singing happy birthday while bringing out a cake with some candles. They went over and put it on a table for two, with an elderly couple who looked happy, if not a little embarrassed. Vegeta glanced back at his wife, who averted his gaze and looked back out the window to the skyline.

They sat in silence for a time, long enough for Vegeta to get himself a new rack of lamb. He savored it, every bite of it; there was no food in all the universe as good as what Earth had to offer, a perk he would never get tired of. Finally, when he was more satiated, he chewed thoughtfully as he looked at his wife.

"I finally read it," he announced, drawing her attention back to him. Bulma looked at him in surprise, leaning forward in interest as she picked up her wine glass again.

"Did you? What did I say? Something wise and profound, I'm sure."

Vegeta shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back to take a breather. He would be ready for seconds soon. "She asked me to check up on him from time to time. She was worried about him being alone."

"Hmm…" Bulma took a sip of her wine, a look in her eye that her husband recognized well. "You know, I did always want to try to build the time machine, just to see how to do it. I mean, if I built it in the future, I can build it here." Vegeta just shrugged again, looking for all intents and purposes like he couldn't care in the least. Bulma, however, knew him as well as anyone could possibly know him, and she smiled knowingly. "I need a new challenge anyway, so I'll see what I can do."

"Fine."

"So what else did the letter say?"

The prince chuckled, picking up his drink. It was some cocktail that Bulma had ordered for him, telling him he would like it. It was strong, but he did find he enjoyed the taste.

"I'll show it to you later once we get home. But I will tell you this. Reading that…" he paused, and took a large drink of the cocktail, as though the alcohol would make it easier to speak. Even after so long, there were still moments when getting his thoughts across to his wife still took effort effort. "It just reminded me, of how things used to be…back then. I saw so much death, I denied far too many the ability to grow old. Living a full life, aging, growing old…it's a privilege, not a burden."

"I know," Bulma said gently. She covered his free hand that was resting on the table with her own. "You're right, I know you are."

"Sorry, what was that? Could you please repeat that?" he asked mockingly, smirking when he saw the look she gave him. Vegeta leaned his head back as he finished his whole cocktail in one shot.

He then lowered the empty glass, and cocked his head a little to the side, his eyes narrowing as they skirted to the side. He felt something…

"What is it?" Bulma asked, concern creeping up at that look on his face. No sooner had she asked, than Vegeta immediately stood up, his chair falling over behind him.

A second later, and her cell phone rang.

"Oh no, oh no," Trunks muttered as he nervously paced in the living room. He was holding Bra in his arms, the toddler screaming so loud he was sure even the security guards outside the estate could hear. The little girl was clutching him, red-faced as she continued bawling. "There, there, you're okay, you're okay, sis," he said as soothingly as he could, rubbing her back as he continued to pace while he waited for his parents.

He didn't have to wait long. He heard the back door being thrown open, and Bulma running over. Before she arrived though, Vegeta was instantly at his side.

"What happened?" he demanded. Without waiting for the reply, he plucked the little girl out of Trunks' hold.

"I…I accidentally hurt her tail," Trunks answered guiltily, following his father who took Bra to the sofa as Bulma ran in.

"Oh no, what happened? Should we take her to the infirmary?" Bulma practically stammered. They could barely hear her over Bra's relentless screaming that was filled with pain. She hovered over as her husband laid the little girl down on the sofa, face down. Bra continued bawling miserably, her tears quickly staining the leather. "Vegeta-"

"I got it," he cut her off, and it was only then that she noticed that he had a gentle grip on the base of Bra's tail. His hand was glowing, and though the little girl's crying continued, it started losing its intensity. Vegeta looked over his shoulder, making hard eye contact with his son. "Talk, _now_ ," he ordered.

Trunks' face was flushed hot red, and he felt both incredibly guilty and also defensive over the anger and accusation in his father's eyes.

"I thought she was…she was walking with me and I closed the door, I wasn't paying attention…I thought her tail had cleared the door, cause it was curled up, but then she uncurled it, and…I accidentally caught the tip of it when I closed the door. She's been crying nonstop ever since. I'm sorry, it was an accident!" he cried.

Vegeta gave him a glare, before he turned back to Bra. He moved his hand gently and expertly down to the tip of the tail, his ki pulsing around his hand. It was a move he had done thousands of times over the years in Frieza's service, when the tyrant had targeted his tail to cause him pain.

"It's alright, princess, it will pass soon," he said as gently as he could to his daughter, using his free hand to rub her back.

"It's okay, Trunks, we both know it was an accident," Bulma meanwhile affirmed to their son, giving Vegeta a pointed look as she knelt next to him in front of the sofa. The prince glared at her, but she ignored it. Instead she brushed her daughter's damp hair out of her face, and then brushed the little girl's tears away.

"Shhh, it's okay, sweet girl," she whispered to her daughter, who whimpered in return. Whatever Vegeta was doing, it was helping calm their toddler substantially, but the tears were still coming. "Is the tail broken?" she asked her husband.

"No," Vegeta answered, his dark eyes examining the fur. "She would have passed out from the pain, if it had been broken. It is bruised and swollen though."

Bulma bit her bottom lip nervously. "Maybe we should get x-rays done, I can order them-"

"No, but some kind of painkiller appropriate for her age, maybe something to help her sleep tonight would be good."

"Okay, I'll be right back," Bulma said, before shooting off to get her medical supplies.

Trunks watched his mom leave, and then turned to look down at his dad, who was still gently tending to Bra's tail.

"Dad…I'm sorry," he miserably said. "I really thought her tail was in the clear."

Vegeta took a deep breath to calm down before he replied. "It's fine," he finally said, forcing himself to swallow his anger. "I didn't explain to you exactly how sensitive this tail really is, and you have no experience with it yourself…we all make mistakes with young children this age, it seems."

The prince stood up when Bulma came back in, and he allowed her to take over from there with caring for their daughter, now that Bra was quieter. He kept watch though, Trunks standing next to him. Vegeta looked at his son out of the corner of his eye – Trunks was just like Bulma, transparent as to how he felt. The prince could practically feel the guilt bleeding out of his oldest.

He reached out to Trunks, putting a hand on his shoulder. The teenager looked at him, his blue eyes searching his for reassurance, much like Bulma had done that morning.

"It was just an accident," Vegeta told him, not missing the relief in his son's eyes. "Go to bed," he ordered.

Trunks nodded, spared his sister one last look, then went over to the stairs to head back to his bedroom. Meanwhile, Bulma had picked up Bra in her arms and sat on the sofa with her, consoling the little girl who was still sniffling and clinging tightly to her. Bulma was careful not to touch anywhere near Bra's tail, raising her eyes then to meet her husband's.

Vegeta's stare was intense as he studied his wife and his daughter. Finally, he exhaled slowly through his nose, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"When she's in a deep sleep, I'll get rid of it," he announced, making Bulma blink in surprise.

"But- are you sure?"

"Yes. The tail itself is a massive weakness, one that she is too young to help her correct right now. The pain in the tail…" he paused, his teeth grinding as images flashed in his mind of Frieza causing him immense pain with the appendage. The thought of his little girl feeling even an ounce of that almost made him nauseous, and guilty for not having considered it before. "With the Super Saiyan state more accessible to these hybrid children at a young age, there is no need for her to risk enduring this kind of pain. She will be just as much a Saiyan without the tail."

"Well, works for me," Bulma said, sighing with fatigue.

Vegeta grunted and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, leaning his head back as he closed his eyes. He was starting to feel the effects of the strong drinks and the heavy meal now, along with the rush of adrenaline when he sensed Bra's ki signature rise sharply with her pain. Now he was just tired.

The only sound for the next few minutes was Bra sniffling on occasion as she started dozing off in Bulma's arms from the medication her mother had given her.

"So much for date night, huh?" Bulma finally whispered.

Vegeta snorted. "I didn't have enough drinks for this."

"Sweetheart, are you sure about removing her tail-"

"Yes, woman, stop pestering me about it already. She will be fine, and strong, just like everyone else."

"Alright, alright," she sighed. "Raising two of your kids is what's giving me gray hair," she muttered under her breath, making him snicker.

"Well, like you enjoy saying - it certainly is never boring."


	16. Christmas Bash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Cheers and good wishes to you all during this holiday season. Here's hoping 2021 is a better year. :)

Bulma's glare was fierce, but her husband wisely avoided looking at her directly, preferring to focus on the book he was reading. The book covered military strategy as it pertained to the so-called " _Roman Empire",_ which he was learning about in depth. Vegeta found it far more entertaining than he would have guessed.

At the very least, it was more entertaining than engaging in his wife's absurd request.

"Vegeta, we had a deal."

He scoffed, turning a page in the book. The prince was laying on his stomach in bed, still refusing to look at the woman standing next to him.

"That's funny, because I don't recall a deal."

"You said last Christmas that you wanted it to be family-only, and I asked if we could have a Christmas bash next time with our friends, and you said yes."

"Don't you twist my words, demon woman," Vegeta growled, finally sparing her a glance before looking back down at his book. "I did not say _yes,_ I said I would _think about it._ "

Bulma pursed her lips, wondering if she had misremembered or if he was just being a jerk. She couldn't say for sure, so decided to take him at face value.

"Well the holidays are here again, so have you thought about-"

"How do you pronounce this general's name?" Vegeta cut in. "This Roman general. Julius…?"

"Caesar."

He grunted, eyebrows drawn together as he read more. "Now this human had a warrior spirit," he said in approval. "Shame he was killed though. He should have known that you cannot trust anyone when you're in power. This is what happens when you let your guard down-"

"Vegeta!"

Vegeta sighed, closing his book and shifting over so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked at his wife in exasperation. This was a yearly battle over how they would spend Christmas, and it was always the same thing. If Bulma had it her way, then every year they would throw the most extravagant party in West City, and everyone and their mother would be invited. If Vegeta had it his way, it would be the two of them, and their two children – with his in-laws making a temporary appearance.

Then again, he was a bit jaded. Though Bulma had explained and explained the reasons behind celebrating Christmas over the years, both from the religious and non-religious angles, and though he himself had done a substantial amount of research on it, it still was not as important to him as it was to her. He just saw it as another reason for the Earthlings to exchange gifts and to throw another party in their string of endless parties.

Vegeta had thought that things would improve as Trunks grew older and ideally less interested in Christmas – but he had also not counted on another child throughout most of his marriage. Now Bra was barely two years old, and he was dismayed to realize he had a good solid decade of dealing with this before hopefully _her_ interest would decline.

"Isn't this holiday supposedly about family?" Vegeta demanded in irritation, matching Bulma's glare. "What is with the insistence of seeing all of your idiot friends?"

"Holidays are for family _and_ friends," Bulma clarified. "Besides, if it was up to _you,_ we'd never throw another party or get-together with our friends, no matter what day of the year it was!"

Vegeta shrugged with indifference, though there was a hint of a smirk creeping over his face. "Sounds like a good plan to me."

"You are such a grinch sometimes, you know that?" Bulma huffed. A look of confusion came over her husband's face – he had heard that word before, but kept forgetting to google what it meant, and he was too proud to ask. "Look, we'll compromise. Christmas Day can be family-only. How about Christmas Eve, we throw a bash with all of our friends?"

"You keep saying _our_ friends, woman, as though that somehow includes me," he sneered.

"Oh boy, here we go," Bulma sighed, rolling her eyes.

He frowned. "What?"

"We've been married for 13 years now, Vegeta. When are you going to admit that they're your friends too? You know that you see Goku more than I do these days, right? I haven't seen that guy in _months,_ and you saw him like two hours ago, and you're seeing him again tomorrow morning."

Vegeta looked deeply offended, an angry snarl on his lips, "Yes, to punch him in the face and even our spar count. Kakarot is nothing but a sparring partner to me-"

"A month ago, you went to hang out with Krillin for an evening and get drinks with him."

Vegeta's nose twitched in annoyance. "I just…had a question for him," he bit out.

He refused to admit to his wife that he wanted to ask Krillin what _his_ thoughts were on Marron dating when she was older, as he had overheard Trunks and Goten teasing Marron about having a "crush" – he was most interested to see if Krillin and 18's philosophy was similar to what he and Bulma had decided for Trunks and Bra. It was a strategy, of course – if Krillin was planning on being stricter with his daughter dating in the future, Vegeta could leverage that information with Bulma. Unfortunately though, it seemed 18 and Krillin both liked the 17-year-old boundary.

"Oh?" Bulma put her hands on her hips, a knowing look in her blue eyes. "And what about a couple weeks ago when you went out with Gohan to get drinks with _him?_ You came home afterwards at like 4 in the morning, totally hammered might I add."

Vegeta exhaled angrily, averting his eyes as his face reddened. He stayed silent for that one, not wanting to share that Gohan had asked to talk to him about some trouble in paradise when it came to his sex life with Videl. Of course, Vegeta hadn't known the topic of conversation until they were already at the bar, and he had been grateful for the alcohol once Gohan started talking. Apparently, gifting Gohan and Videl ki-draining handcuffs, combined with Bulma openly talking up her sex life with her female friends, had somehow made Vegeta the resident expert for advice on keeping one's wife happy in the sheets. That had been _quite_ the conversation that evening, especially with how utterly sheltered Gohan's upbringing had been. Needless to say, Vegeta had been completely drunk by the end of the night.

Regardless, _that_ was a conversation best kept between Saiyan men.

"A few conversations here and there does not mean those fools are my friends," he finally sneered.

"Well, I don't see you meeting up with Yamcha to talk over drinks," Bulma noted, a playful look in her blue eyes. Vegeta growled angrily at that, looking back at her with pure disdain, but she just laughed. "Alright alright, call them whatever you want, tough guy. But I would like to see _my_ friends, and I'd like to throw us a nice Christmas bash. We haven't had one since Bra was born, and she's much more curious and aware of things now, so it would be nice."

Vegeta groaned, reaching up to massage his forehead. "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun!" Bulma said happily, making him roll his eyes. She put her arms around him, hugging him and effectively taking the fight right out of him. Vegeta sighed against her stomach in defeat as she excitedly continued. "We'll have lights, and ugly sweaters, and good food, and lots of drinks, and music, and-"

"Sounds like I'll be in hell for the third time in my life," he grumbled.

"Mmm, but I have a very sexy Christmas outfit you might like, so it won't be total hell," she said suggestively. Vegeta leaned his head back to look up at her then, raising an eyebrow in intrigue.

"Is that so?"

"Yup."

"How sexy?" he demanded, pulling her against him. She leaned down, her hands cupping his face.

"Well, you'll just have to wait and see, now won't you?" Bulma teased, her breath just over his lips. She leaned in the rest of the way, loving how he readily opened his mouth to deepen their kiss. She enjoyed him for a few seconds, but then pulled away before it escalated, making him scowl in disapproval. Bulma smiled and ran her thumb over his lips.

"Now we've got work to do, because we only have a few days," she said in excitement, going over to their dresser to snatch up her phone.

"Tch, whatever," he mumbled. He reached back for his book, and then sat upright against the headboard, propping up some pillows behind him. He cursed under his breath when he realized he had lost the page he was on. "Can you at least not invite everyone in the damn city to this?"

"I won't, I won't. I don't want to steal Hercule's thunder, after all," Bulma giggled, as she opened up the group chat. "Oh! We should do a Secret Santa this year!" she exclaimed in excitement.

"What the fuck is a _Secret Santa_?" Vegeta asked warily. If she was going to ask him once again to dress up like Santa Claus, she was going to once again be sorely disappointed. That was one thing he had never, and _would_ _never_ bend on, no matter how much she had needled him on it during their first few Christmases together as a married couple. A Saiyan had to keep his pride, after all.

"It's when everyone gets assigned one person to buy a gift for, but it's all anonymous. Oh, it'll be so fun! I'll let you know who you have soon."

"Wha-" he started, his eyes widening. She couldn't possibly want him to buy a gift for one of her idiot friends at _random,_ could she? "Woman, don't involve me in-"

He was cut off by the sound of Bra crying on the baby monitor, and Bulma's phone ringing. Bulma answered excitedly, "Hi Yamcha! Yep, Christmas Eve is the day…" she quickly covered the mouthpiece, looking over at her husband. "I'll take care of the baby, can you do the lights outside?"

He cast her a look of disgust. "I am not your Christmas slave," he growled in annoyance, just wanting to get back to reading his book.

"Oh but you can put up the lights in under a minute with your crazy Saiyan speed! Don't be a grinch, Vegeta."

Vegeta scowled, but she had already left their bedroom before he could reply, yammering on with her ex. Before he forgot, he snatched up his cell phone and finally googled "what is a grinch?". The prince read the first result: "a person who is mean-spirited and unfriendly."

He smirked at that. Turned out she had been complimenting him all along.

He tossed aside his phone and picked up his book again, settling back to read a little more before he tackled the lights to decorate the outside of their home. Bulma and Trunks had already put up their large and elaborate Christmas tree and stockings, and Trunks had strung up lights all over the main level of their home. In the middle of the Capsule Corp compound outside was also an enormous Christmas tree put up by the employees, "to boost morale", according to Bulma. Thus Vegeta reluctantly conceded that he could at least decorate the outside of their home, which was simple enough with the synchronized lights Bulma liked to use. Then she couldn't say that he didn't participate.

An hour later, Vegeta was cursing heatedly in his native language as he tried unsuccessfully to disentangle the string of lights in his hands while he levitated outside their domed home. He was in a black sweater and dark blue snow pants, along with his boots; it was cold and there was already snow outside, about 6 inches worth, which had him in a horrible mood.

"Piece of shit, fucking lights," Vegeta growled, furiously pulling on the lights, but there was just no end to the fucking knots. It was taking all he had not to completely destroy them, but he was struggling to keep his temper in check. "Fucking human bullshit, everyone putting up lights outside their home, it's nothing but a big bulls-eye to invite attackers, can't believe this planet has survived this fucking long," he muttered angrily under his breath, his teeth grinding together as he found another handful of knots. He could practically feel his blood pressure rising as he continued his vain attempt to disentangle the endless lights.

"I _hate_ Christmas," he snarled furiously. "I _hate_ this planet. I _hate_ these fucking lights. I should have fucking destroyed this planet. That damn woman. This is all her fault-"

Goku suddenly teleported in, practically in Vegeta's face, startling the prince half-to-death. "Heya, Vegeta!" he greeted happily, clad in a green and red striped sweater with a reindeer in the middle.

Goku yelped when Vegeta angrily swung a large handful of the knotted lights hard at him, hitting him on top of his head.

"Hey!" Goku complained, rubbing his head. "That was mean, what'd you do that for?"

"Shut up, Kakarot!" Vegeta yelled at him. "I told you I hate when you just teleport in my face like that!"

Goku pouted. "But you don't want me to text you, so how am I supposed to talk to you?"

"You could just fly over here like a normal person, so that I can mentally prepare for your stupidity ahead of time," Vegeta sneered.

"Why are you being so mean today?" Goku whined.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "I am always mean, idiot."

"But it's almost Christmas! You should be happy."

Vegeta exhaled angrily through his nose. "You know what will make me happy? Untangling this shit," he snarled, holding up the mess of lights so his fellow Saiyan could see.

"Oh, here, I'll help ya," Goku said happily. "I'm good at this."

"Of course you are," Vegeta muttered bitterly, though he welcomed the help, since his anger had him close to throwing all the lights into the nearest ocean. "So what did you want, Kakarot? I don't imagine you came here just to help me with these Christmas lights."

"Your ki was spiking a lot, I was worried you were going to destroy the planet," Goku told him in a serious tone. Vegeta looked up in surprise, blinking a bit and wondering if he really had gotten that angry, but Goku's serious look morphed into a wide grin, letting him know he was kidding. Vegeta gave him a glare.

"Imbecile," he growled.

Goku chuckled, his fingers working to deftly untangle the knots in the lights. "In all seriousness, I came to pick your brain. It looks like I drew Bulma in the Secret Santa we're doing. Any ideas what I could give her?"

"Nothing," Vegeta grumbled. "She is spoiled, just like the children. She does not need anything."

"Well I can't show up to the Secret Santa and not give her anything, you know how upset she'd be?"

Vegeta grunted, thinking about it for a moment as both Saiyans made headway on the lights. "I don't know," he finally said, as they untangled the last of the lights together. He scowled as he admitted, "I don't do well with gifts. Now make yourself useful, help me put these up."

"Sure thing," Goku said, grabbing one end of the lights as Vegeta grabbed the other.

The two Saiyans then spiraled in a flash multiple times around the domed home, and just like that, the lights were up. Vegeta landed and plugged in his end into a socket on the ground level, and the lights instantly turned on, a myriad of bright colors.

"There," Vegeta sighed, his hands on his waist as he studied their work. That had felt like a battle, and he was glad it was over.

"We make a great team, huh, Vegeta?" Goku said as he smiled.

"Whatever," Vegeta grumbled. Goku's smile spread when he saw that the prince was much calmer now, and so he tried again.

"So no ideas at all on what I can get Bulma?"

Vegeta sighed, reaching up to rub his forehead, trying to think. "Well, the woman likes jewelry, fashion, makeup. Maybe a good bottle of wine, I suppose." He paused, an idea suddenly occurring to him. "Actually, Bulma has a pair of analog calipers for her personal lab, and she's mentioned a couple times that she'd like a digital one. I doubt she's gotten around to it yet, so that seems a safe bet."

"What is that?"

"It's like a tool for measuring," Vegeta explained with a shrug.

"Can you text it to me, so I don't forget?"

"So you can get my new phone number? Nice try, Kakarot." Goku pouted at him again as Vegeta chuckled. "I'll have Trunks text it to you."

"Alriiiight," Goku relented.

"Also, your sweater is completely ridiculous," Vegeta said snidely, examining the other Saiyan's sweater for the first time.

"What's wrong with it? It's festive," Goku said brightly. "So, who do _you_ have in the Secret Santa, Vegeta?"

"No one, gods willing," Vegeta grumbled.

"Hello out there!" Bulma called out, making both Saiyans look over. "Someone really wants her daddy!"

Whatever anger over his ordeal with the lights that remained in Vegeta vanished at the sight of his two-year-old daughter trotting out, with Bulma close behind. Bulma had bundled Bra up to an absurd degree, putting her in a sweater, and then a puffy light blue snow jacket, along with white snow pants, a big wool hat with a small puffy ball on top, and two dark blue scarves wrapped around her. She had white snow boots on which came up almost to her knees, and had gloves on as well, along with ear muffs.

"And where exactly is this girl going, to the Antarctic?" Vegeta asked in amusement. At the sound of his rough voice, Bra turned and happily started trotting over to him, as fast as she could manage with how bundled up she was. She got off the clear shoveled path, and started trotting into the snow.

"Hey, no one is trying to have a toddler get sick this close to Christmas," Bulma laughed, before brightening at the sight of Goku. "Well well well, look who it is! Goku, you've been a stranger!"

Goku chuckled as he went over to her to chat. "Yeah, sorry about that! Time really flies…"

Meanwhile, Vegeta crouched down, watching his daughter as Bra trudged through the snow towards him. When she got close to him, she tripped and fell, right into the snow, getting a face-full of it. Bra pushed herself up, looked at Vegeta with snow covering half her face, and her face scrunched up as she immediately started bawling. Vegeta just chuckled, going over to her and lifting her up from the snow, holding her against him.

"It is just snow, you are fine, child," he told her, gently wiping the snow from her face. Bra continued crying, her face red as she clutched him. Of course, he could have saved her from her little fall, but the snow was soft, she was in no danger, and a few falls never killed anyone; plus, it had been mildly entertaining. Vegeta turned so they were facing their home, and pointed to the lights.

"Look there, see the lights?" he asked, drawing his toddler's attention. Bra sniffled as she looked to where he was pointing. "Do you like them?"

"No," Bra whined, sniffling with tears in her eyes.

"No? Are you still upset that you fell in the snow?"

"Yeah," Bra sniffled again, hugging him tightly.

"Well, sometimes we have to fall, no way around that…"

With that, Vegeta gripped Bra by the back of her jacket, and dropped her back into a particularly high pile of snow. Bra shrieked as she sank in, cushioned with the snow, and this time, no snow touched her face. The toddler's face scrunched up as she reddened and drew in a huge breath to start bawling again, both in betrayal and for being back in the dreaded snow, when Vegeta promptly extended his arms and then fell backwards into the snow himself, landing on his back.

The prince chuckled as he interlaced his fingers behind his head, uncaring of the snow and his now-wet sweater. He brought up one knee, folding his other leg over it, as though he was lounging on a beach. Bra's attempt to cry was forgotten as she instead forced herself up to toddle over to him. She peered down at him, her blue eyes curious as she marveled over how the snow didn't bother him at all. Vegeta just gave her a smirk.

"See? The snow is nothing. Remember, a true Saiyan has no fear," he told the little girl. "Say it with me. No fear."

"No fee," Bra repeated.

"No _fear._ "

"No fee!" she yelled.

"Close enough," he snickered, just as she jumped and did a belly-flop onto his abdomen with a giggle, making him grunt. As she tried scrambling over him, he noticed that she got snow again on her face – this time though, she didn't seem to care, more interested in horsing around with him as she laughed. Vegeta came dangerously close to smiling as she continued launching herself into him, and then he outright laughed out loud when Bra grabbed a handful of snow with her gloved hand and smashed it into his face.

"Yes, good retaliation maneuver," he laughed, pride in his chest that she had gotten him back. "You must always strike back in battle. Say it with me. Always strike back."

"Alllll-wayssss…oh!" Bra exclaimed, something suddenly catching her attention. She started waddling away, and he looked to see that she was heading to a snowman.

Vegeta sat up, wiping the remaining snow off his face as Bulma came up to him, giving him a warm smile. Goku had left, and she had been content with watching her husband horse around with their daughter in the snow, especially when it made him laugh. Though she and Trunks could on rare occasions get that out of him depending on his mood, it seemed Bra could so effortlessly make Vegeta laugh, and it was something Bulma would never get tired of.

"You did great with the lights, hon. Now we're in the festive spirit," Bulma smugly said.

The prince shrugged with indifference. He easily got back up on his feet, wiping the snow off himself as he looked at the lights which pulsed and changed colors every five or so seconds. "Those lights tangle too much," he gruffly informed her. "We need a better way to do this, or one of these years I am going to destroy this planet once and for all."

"I'll figure it out, don't worry. Oh and before I forget – you have Piccolo for the Secret Santa."

Vegeta looked at her, horror-stricken. "You expect me to get the Namekian a gift?"

"Well, I did it at random, and that's who you got," Bulma said with an easy shrug. "Don't overthink it though. And if you find yourself really struggling, I can help you in a pinch."

"Whatever," he grumbled, glancing towards their daughter who had already dismantled the snowman. He smirked in approval when he saw that the snowman's head had rolled away. That was his kid, all right. "You got her? I'm going to change."

"Yup, no worries. I have to help her make a new snowman anyway, it seems…"

"Fine," he grumbled, patting off his snow pants. "Anything else you need from your _Christmas slave_ before I go back inside _?_ " he sneered.

"Oh gods, you're so dramatic sometimes," Bulma laughed. "I only asked you to do _one_ thing, you grinch."

"You use that word like it's an insult, but I searched that word on the Google world wide web page and it is actually a compliment-"

"Oh, hang on, that's Trunks calling…hi sweetie, how are you? What time are you coming back home from Goten's?" she asked, heading over to where Bra was now rolling around in the snow.

Vegeta rolled his eyes then headed back inside to warm up. Twenty minutes later, he was finally in their private bathroom, lounging in their oversized bathtub that was filled with hot water. He had his book in hand, frowning as he studiously read, grateful for the peace and quiet.

Unfortunately, it did not last. The prince raised an eyebrow in suspicion when the phone rang next to him. He exhaled roughly from his nose, snatching up the phone and seeing that he didn't recognize the number.

Vegeta hit the answer button, raising the phone as he growled, "Who the fuck is this?"

Krillin chuckled. "Hey Vegeta, it's Krillin."

"How did you get this number, baldy?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not bald anymore?"

"Answer the question."

"Trunks gave me the number."

Vegeta's nose twitched. He would have a word with his son when the boy returned home. "What do you want?"

"Well, I had a question."

"Out with it then. You are interrupting me, so make it fast."

"Trunks is my Secret Santa…any thoughts on what I could get him?"

Vegeta frowned in confusion. "Why didn't you just ask Bulma?"

"Oh, I guess I could have," Krillin responded, and Vegeta could hear the surprise in his voice. "But I don't know, I thought of you first, after we had talked about the kids recently and all…"

Vegeta rested his head back as he growled, "Don't get that boy anything. He is spoiled."

"Vegeta, if we're all doing a gift exchange, I can't NOT get Trunks something."

 _I can't wait til this Christmas shit is over,_ he mused silently to himself. He sighed again. "He would most enjoy the new online multiplayer combat video game that simulates your last global world war. Get him that, and you'll beat out Goten as his new best friend."

"Sweet, awesome! Thanks Vegeta, you're the best."

Vegeta rolled his eyes and hung up, tossing his phone across the bathroom. He resumed reading his book, wondering off hand just what the hell he was going to do about drawing _Piccolo_ of all people as the person he was matched with. He had a few days though to deal with that problem.

* * *

A few days came and went much faster than he had anticipated. Soon enough, the day of the party had arrived. Vegeta had done well to stay away from the main level of his home when he heard the Christmas music playing – _didn't the Earthlings EVER get new Christmas music? –_ but when he caught a whiff of the food, he knew it was only a matter of time.

Grumbling to himself, he made his way downstairs to the Christmas party, where some folks had already gathered. Bulma had told him he had three options: wear an "ugly sweater", wear a "Santa hat", or wear what he pleased, so long as they were Christmas colors. Not wanting to ruin the day for her (it was his Christmas gift to keep his pessimism to himself for the day), he settled on wearing a dark green sweater along with his dark blue jeans. That was as good as it was going to get.

"Hey hon! You finally made it," Bulma greeted him happily, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. Vegeta frowned at her in disapproval over her kissing him in front of others, but his attention was diverted to the mug she gave him.

"Here's a hot cocoa, it's from a new local shop I found," she offered. He grunted and took the mug, curiously raising it for a sniff. While he did, he examined her outfit. She was in red leggings with black boots, and a nice white dress with green trim. Her outfit was topped with a Santa hat. "My mom has some eclairs too, and she's put some aside for you, since she knows you love them."

"Hn," he grunted, raising his mug up for a drink, his dark eyes surveying the situation.

The kids seemed to have conquered their living room – Trunks, Goten, and Marron, all wearing Santa hats, were in a loud and heated racing game that had them practically screaming as they each tried desperately to win. Pan and Bra were playing together on the other side of the room, on a workbench for kids that Bulma had gotten for Bra, filled with play tools to "inspire the engineer in her". It seemed that in the moment, Bra was more interested in chewing on a toy wrench, though she and Pan were turning different nuts and bolts on the work bench.

He picked up on Bulma's parents in the kitchen, talking privately while she baked Christmas cookies; Videl, Chi-Chi, and Android 18 in the dining room sitting around the table enjoying some alcoholic egg nog; and the respective husbands laughing in the adjoining family room. The prince looked back at his wife.

"Is this everyone?"

"Just waiting on Yamcha and Piccolo," Bulma said, before leaning close enough to her husband to whisper to him and still be heard over the Christmas music, "You _did_ get Piccolo something, right?"

"I did not," Vegeta whispered to her with a smirk, watching as she reacted with indignation. He chuckled as she glared at him angrily, raising his mug with amusement.

"Vegeta!" she hissed. "We can't have him being the only one not getting a gift!"

He rolled his eyes. "Trust me, the fool will be happier for it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because _I_ would be."

Bulma sighed, shaking her head. She could have argued, but she wasn't up for it, not right then anyway. "Fine, fine, you're grown and you can deal with the awkwardness on your own, you jerk. The food should be here in about an hour, then we'll open the gifts."

"Good," he gruffly said.

They both heard Videl call for Bulma, so she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving to continue playing hostess. Vegeta turned his attention to the kids in the room, watching them all as they continued playing and shouting, while he continued drinking his hot cocoa, his free hand in the pocket of his jeans. This room held the future of his dying race, and as he felt the strong ki signatures of the Saiyan hybrid kids, he found himself pleased.

As though on cue, Gohan entered the room, completing the picture. Vegeta nearly spit out his hot cocoa when Gohan came over and put his arm around his shoulders. Gohan's face was slightly red, and he had a goofy smile that left no doubt as to who his father was. He, also, was wearing a Santa hat.

"Hey Vegeta, I'm so glad you finally came down!" he loudly told the prince. Vegeta's nose twitched; he could smell the alcohol on Goku's oldest son.

He angrily shrugged himself free, giving Gohan a pointed look. "It was inevitable; I do live here," he sneered.

"Hey, hey," Gohan said, coming up closer to Vegeta, who scowled and leaned back a little. "Those tips you gave me, they've been _life changing_ with Videl, let me tell you," he said quietly so the kids couldn't hear as he grinned.

"Tch, was there any doubt," Vegeta arrogantly replied.

"Thank you SO much. Here, come on with us guys, we are talking about our favorite fights, come on," Gohan urged, heading back to the family room. Vegeta rolled his eyes, but he followed suit.

An hour later, Yamcha had arrived, Piccolo had arrived, and, most importantly, catering had arrived. Bulma was helping her mother set the spread of food along with her bots in the dining room, which she had extended to full capacity, when Yamcha hurried in.

"Uh, hey Bulma?" he nervously said, just as she set down the fifth full turkey on the table.

"Oh good, you're here, Yamcha. Can you get all the boys in here now, and the kids? It's time to eat!" she said happily. "Videl, can you put this turkey here on the kids' table?"

"Bulma," Yamcha said again, drawing her attention. "The rest of the guys are outside, and uh, I think Goku and Vegeta are about to fight. They've both been drinking and I think you should come out to get them..."

Meanwhile, outside where it was dark and snowing and only illuminated by the Christmas lights on the domed building, Vegeta and Goku were in a heated argument that had them both screaming at each other. Krillin and Gohan were interjecting where necessary, both of them more than a little buzzed and goading on the argument in hopes of seeing a good fight.

Piccolo was observing silently from the side, standing alone as his cape whipped through the air. The Namekian couldn't help but wonder if all Christmas parties were like this.

"I _WON_ THAT FIGHT, YOU CLOWN!" Vegeta screamed at Goku.

"YOU DIDN'T, JUST ADMIT IT, VEGETA!" Goku screamed back. He hiccupped; those fruity drinks Bulma had in her home, had done a _number_ on him. Of the two full-blooded Saiyans, he had the least amount of tolerance and was much more far gone than Vegeta, who was just getting buzzed when the arguing had been taken outside.

Goku brushed at his reddened face, his reindeer antlers perched on his head slightly lopsided.

"YOU COULDN'T BEAT ME FAIR AND SQUARE, YOU MORON! YOU NEEDED YOUR SON AND BALDY TO HELP YOU WIN!"

"OH, OH! I THOUGHT 'WINNING WAS WINNING'! THAT'S WHAT YOU SAID LATER ABOUT THE CHEAP SHOT WHEN YOU WERE MAJIN!"

Goku hiccupped again, then drew up his chest as he tried scowling like Vegeta, though he just made himself look constipated.

" _Winning is winning, Kakarot!"_ Goku growled in his best imitation of Vegeta's voice.

Vegeta immediately launched himself into Goku, punching him in the face and making his reindeer antlers fly off as Goku yelped. Both Saiyans went crashing into the snow, rolling around as they brawled. They both tried getting the upper hand to punch the other as Gohan and Krillin started hollering and cheering for them.

" _GOKU!"_

" _VEGETA!"_

And just like that, at the sound of their wives screaming their names, both Saiyans stopped fighting as they looked over warily at Bulma and Chi-Chi who were both glaring at them. Goku had mounted Vegeta and had a fist pulled back, but upon the distraction, Vegeta roughly shoved him off, sending him back to the snow.

Unfazed, Goku propped himself up, eyes wide in excitement. "Is the food finally here?" Goku eagerly demanded, the fight already forgotten.

Bulma rolled her eyes and gestured for them all to come back inside. Goku shouted in excitement, snatching up his reindeer antlers as he raced back inside, beating everyone to the punch. The others trickled in after him, with Vegeta bringing up the rear. The cold wetness of the snow had done enough to sober him up for the time being, and now he was ravenous.

"Can you _please_ behave, Vegeta?" Bulma whispered to her husband as he came up to the entrance.

Vegeta scowled at her. "That idiot started it."

Bulma shook her head in exasperation, muttering something about Saiyans, and went on ahead of him as Vegeta patted the snow off his clothes at the entrance. He then realized there was one other party that was entering in after him, and that was Piccolo.

They both stared at each other for a moment, before Vegeta frowned and said, "I had you in the gift exchange, Namekian."

Piccolo's antenna twitched. "I apparently had you too, Saiyan," he grumbled.

"I didn't get you anything," Vegeta bluntly admitted. He saw a look of relief on Piccolo's face at his words.

"Good, I didn't get you anything either," Piccolo gruffly admitted. Vegeta smirked knowingly.

"Good."

"Good."

Piccolo then went on inside, looking to go check on Pan. Vegeta stayed at the entrance a moment longer, listening to everyone talking and laughing, as he heard the music and smelled the food. It was warm and satisfying, even moreso when he knew there was a seat at the table for him that would be between his wife and his son, with his daughter close by in her high chair. More than being expected at the table - he was accepted _._

He didn't need any Christmas gifts, when he already had everything he wanted.


	17. Ultra Dad Mode

It was just past three in the morning months later when Bra started crying in her room, making the monitors light up in her parents’ bedroom. Vegeta groaned, turning over onto his stomach and burying his face into a pillow in exhaustion. He had only _just_ fallen asleep; without Bulma next to him, sleep had proven annoyingly difficult to come by. Back when he was a soldier for Frieza, he could sleep anywhere, in any weather, in any conditions, and his senses had eventually sharpened enough that no one could approach him in his sleep without waking him. Now, the most comfortable king-sized bed on Earth did nothing for him without his wife’s presence next to him, much to his dismay.

Bulma was on an overnight work trip, which officially had him on “ultra dad mode”, per her teasing words to him before she left to catch her flight. She would be back the following night, so it was not too long. A mere 24 hours without her while he took care of the children. He was certain he could survive 24 hours without his wife, but it was not looking promising if he could not even get decent sleep. Sleep deprivation was a thing of the past – Bulma liked to chide him that nowadays, he needed his “beauty sleep”, much to his annoyance.

Vegeta instinctively reached to where Bulma would usually be, and was momentarily surprised when his hand just touched the sheets. He scowled when he remembered that she was gone for the time being, so no one else was going to check on Bra, since Trunks was spending the night at Goten’s and would not be back until the morning. Sighing, the prince pushed himself up and begrudgingly got out of his warm bed. He yawned as he slipped his shorts on, and then made his way out of the room.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered under his breath, easily navigating his way through the dark compound. Finally, Vegeta arrived at his daughter’s room and opened the door. He scowled at the little two-year-old girl who was sitting up in her toddler bed in her Nemo onesie, clutching her teddy bear while she bawled her eyes out.

“What is it, girl? I know you cannot be hungry.”

Bra looked at him miserably. “Daddy!” she cried, tears running down her reddened face. “I don’t like this!”

“You have to be more specific,” he growled in irritation. “What don’t you like now?”

Ever since Bra had heard Trunks saying he didn’t like a certain movie, everything was now preceded by “I don’t like”. Now Bra kept telling her parents that she didn’t like much of anything: she didn’t like vegetables, she didn’t like her brother, she didn’t like her clothes, she didn’t like baths, she didn’t like the clouds, she didn’t like the sun. Once in a while, Bra had even thrown in that she didn’t like Bulma or Vegeta, depending on whether said parent was telling her no and denying her wishes – the little girl had quickly learned though that her parents were _very_ strong-willed, and saying such words to them only made them double down and deny her further, so _that_ one had not lasted long.

She gave her father a sad look, sniffling as she cried, “I don’t like this bed!”

Vegeta bit his tongue hard before “tough shit” rolled off his tongue. “The terrible two’s”, Bulma had called it. Bulma had handled the brunt of this with Trunks, because Vegeta had no patience for it back then – he was more likely to throw Trunks out into a wild jungle as a two-year-old boy to force him to survive alone, than he was to deal with any of the strongheaded nonsense that came with a two-year-old.

He had much more patience this time around, but it was _not_ infinite, especially when he was tired and not in a great mood. Unfortunately, he could not defer to his wife, and so he scowled as he stared at his daughter.

“That is a new bed,” Vegeta informed her, trying to reason. “So I don’t want to hear it. Lay down and go to sleep.”

“No!” Bra yelled, as she continued to cry. Then, an idea visibly occurred to her; Vegeta could practically see the lightbulb going on over her head. “Daddy, Bra want cake!”

Vegeta’s eye twitched. “You are not having cake at this hour, now lay down and sleep,” he snapped.

Bra sniffled as she stared at her father, her bright blue eyes swimming with tears. “But Daddy,” she whimpered.

Vegeta felt his resolve start to crumble. “We don’t even HAVE any cake, Bra,” he said in exasperation.

“We go to store!” Bra announced, smiling at him, her tears already forgotten as she went into toddler problem solving mode. “We go now, Daddy. Cake, THEN sleep!”

He met her smile with a glare; if anyone knew about hostage situations, it was him. He had never given into one, _ever,_ and he would be damned to allow a two-year-old to suck him into one now. “We most certainly are not going to the store at this hour,” he growled. “This is not a negotiation, brat. Do as you are told.”

“But Daddy!”

“ _But Daddy,_ nothing. I don’t want to hear it. Don’t make me come in here to tell you again. I want you sleeping in the next 5 minutes.”

Bra’s eyes teared up again as she whimpered while staring up at him, clutching her bear closer. The fresh tears started running down her face, and Vegeta tilted his head back to stifle a groan.

“Fine,” he sighed, looking back down at the two-year-old girl as his eyes softened. He sighed again, blaming his fatigue for his lack of will in fighting the toddler that night. “We don’t have cake, but you may have ONE cookie if that means you will go to sleep afterwards.”

Bra brightened. “Yay! Bra like cookies,” she giggled, sniffling her tears away.

“Do we have a deal then?” Vegeta asked, but the little girl had already hopped out of her bed and darted past her father, giggling as she dragged her stuffed teddy bear along.

Vegeta rolled his eyes, but he followed as she went downstairs, heading straight for the kitchen. He turned on the light as he entered, then watched in mild amusement as Bra easily leapt up onto the counter. She dropped her bear as she stood up, opening a cabinet and reaching with her tip toes to the cookie jar. He cocked his head to one side in curiosity; Bulma had deliberately hidden the cookies, and yet the little girl knew EXACTLY where they were.

He smirked; the kid was smart. Perhaps all that money going into the preschool genius boosters program Bulma was paying for was paying off.

Bra tried putting both hands on the cookie jar and taking it out, but it was made of glass, so Vegeta instantly took hold of the jar before she could. He set it on the counter as Bra sat next to the jar, smiling happily as she watched her father open it.

“Cookie, cookie!” she chanted excitedly.

“Just one, then bed time,” he told her sternly. Vegeta took out one chocolate chip cookie and handed it to her, took out another for himself, then started to put the lid back on before Bra cried out in protest.

“Daddy!” she whined.

He looked at her in exasperation. “What now?”

“Runo wants cookie too!” Bra told him, gesturing to the teddy bear sitting next to her. A gift from her grandparents for Christmas, she had been inseparable from the teddy bear ever since. If Runo had been water proof, she likely would have insisted on even bathing with her teddy bear; as it was, Runo dutifully waited at the sink in the bathroom whenever she was bathed.

Vegeta looked at the bear, then back at his daughter, frowning at her. “He is a toy. He does not eat,” he told her bluntly.

Bra’s expression melted into a disapproving glare that reminded him of his wife. “Runo hungry!” she loudly informed him. “Bra loves Runo!”

Vegeta paused, exhaled through his nose so he wouldn’t disintegrate her stuffed bear, and took out another cookie from the jar. He handed it to Bra, who put it in front of her bear, looking pleased. Vegeta rolled his eyes and closed the jar, then put it back where it was. He then leaned back against the counter, tossing his cookie into his mouth in one shot while Bra nibbled on hers happily.

“Daddy?”

“Hn?”

She blinked up at him. “It’s Bra’s birthday?”

“No. Your birthday is in a few months. Then you will be three.” Bra contemplated this response, looking down at her half-eaten cookie in her hands. Vegeta sighed when he saw her eyes start watering. “What now, child?”

“I don’t like birthdays!” she informed him in dismay, sniffling as fresh tears started running down her face.

“Alright, enough of that now. You are just getting upset because you are tired, so you need to go to bed. Come on, let’s go,” Vegeta ordered, turning towards her and extending his arms to her.

Bra immediately scrambled to him, abandoning the cookies but snatching up Runo as she climbed into his arms and hugged him around his neck. He rubbed her back, carrying her out of the kitchen though he purposely walked slower than usual. He raised his ki enough to raise his body temperature as Bra rested her head on his shoulder while he continued rubbing her back. By the time he had made it all the way to her third floor bedroom, the little girl was sound asleep in his arms.

Vegeta settled her back into her bed as gently as he could, making sure to supply her teddy bear. The last thing he needed was to be woken again because the bear was missing. Bra rolled to her side, facing away from him as she clutched her bear tightly to her chest while he covered her with the blankets.

The prince lingered a moment longer, staring down at his daughter while he frowned. He reached down to her and gently moved a blue strand of hair out of her face. Her third birthday would be arriving soon. The time was moving very quickly – it had felt like only days ago that they had brought Bra home as a little newborn. He wished he could slow things down, but such was life.

Moments later, he was back in his own room. He sighed, climbing into his bed and laying facedown right on the covers, not bothering to discard his shorts again or even get back to the pillows. He regretted now the evening sparring session he had had with Goku before Bulma had left for the airport; it had been more intense and brutal than usual, which had him exhausted.

He was mostly asleep when he heard his cell phone vibrate on his nightstand. Vegeta resisted the urge to whimper. What did a man have to do to get some sleep? It was one of the rare times he really needed it too.

He then remembered that it was late and only Bulma and Trunks had his direct number (he had changed it after Krillin had gotten hold of it, just out of sheer principle), and that woke him quickly. It could be an emergency, after all – otherwise, why call at his hour? Snatching his phone a heartbeat later, he squinted at it. It was a number he didn’t recognize.

Vegeta rejected the call, muttering curses in his native language as he laid back down. No sooner did he rest his head when the phone went off again. Grinding his teeth together, he snatched it back up and answered.

“Whoever this is, this had _better_ be fucking good, calling me at this hour,” he growled angrily.

“Hi, is this the father of Trunks Briefs?” a woman responded.

Vegeta immediately sat up, suddenly wide awake. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Hi, Mr. Briefs, I’m sorry to call you at this hour. It seems that your son and a group of friends from his high school – one of which is my son too – all thought it was a good idea to throw themselves a party in the woods. There was a lot of alcohol, and almost all the kids are drunk, your son included. Would you be able to come pick him up? He says he can’t ‘fly’ – he is very drunk – and said to call you, because his mom is out of town.”

 _So much for “I’m just crashing at Goten’s tonight.”_ Vegeta exhaled slowly, forcing himself to count to five. He then ran his hand down his face, his eye twitching, thinking to himself of how he was going to murder his first-born before the boy ever got the chance to move out.

“Sir?”

“I would if I could, but my daughter is only two years old, I cannot leave her alone in the house,” Vegeta explained. “Is it possible for someone else to bring him here?”

“Totally understand about your daughter. I’m sorry, we have our hands tied here. These kids left a real mess in the woods. Is there anyone else who can come get him? If not, we can call him a cab.”

“Yes, do that. He should have money to pay for it.”

“Will do.”

With that, Vegeta hung up. He sat on the edge of his bed, nose twitching. He wasn’t sure what he was angrier about – that Trunks had been mixed up in such a party, or that he had deliberately lied to him about where he was going. Figuring that sleep was out of the question now, he got up and went downstairs to wait for his son’s arrival, muttering to himself that this shit never happened when Bulma was home.

Vegeta was sitting on the sofa, drinking a fresh black cup of coffee half an hour later, when he felt his son arrive in the taxi outside the estate. Soon after, the boy was making his way towards the compound. Vegeta raised his mug to take a drink, scowling when he sensed Trunks stop just shy of the front door. Moments later, he realized why – the teenager was vomiting outside. Downing his coffee in one shot, he put his mug on a side table and went over to the door.

Trunks was lying on the cold pavement after vomiting his guts out, curled up in a fetal position as he hugged his stomach in misery. He looked over with bleary eyes when the front door opened and his father emerged, standing in the doorway. The prince was only clad in loose blue shorts, arms crossed over his chest as he glared angrily down at his only son.

“Dad. I didn’t mean it,” Trunks slurred, his face flushed red.

“I ought to leave you out here in the cold to sleep it off, idiot boy,” Vegeta growled.

Trunks whimpered as he rested his head back on the pavement. Vegeta exhaled through his nose in frustration, before going over to his son and squatting next to him. Not ungently, he grabbed Trunks by the jacket and pulled him so he was sitting up.

“Come on, kid, get up,” Vegeta grumbled, standing and helping his son stand too. He grabbed Trunks’ arm and put it around his shoulders to help steady the teenager. “We will discuss this in the morning.”

“Mkay,” Trunks muttered as Vegeta helped him trudge into the house. “This doesn’t feel as good as I thought it would,” he moaned.

“Tch. Wait til morning, then tell me how you feel.”

“Let me just…crash on the sofa, please?”

Without a word, Vegeta led him over to the sofa, and then let his son go. Trunks promptly collapsed onto the sofa, face first. Vegeta rolled his eyes. Whether it was coincidence or planned that this little party happened when Bulma was out of town, Trunks was fortunate that his wife was not there. She would still be yelling at him if she was. Grumbling to himself, squatted down next to his son to start getting his jacket off.

“Hey, Dad?” Trunks muttered as his father slipped his jacket off.

“Hn?” Vegeta grunted, moving down to remove one of Trunks’ boots.

“Do you think I’m a disappointment?”

Vegeta raised his head in surprise. “What?”

Trunks’ blue eyes were unguarded with emotion as he and his father made eye contact. He was almost stammering as he spoke, “I mean, ‘cause I stopped training…plus I know that…that it disappoints you…that I’m not more like you. Plus, I wasn’t born with a tail, and…and it’s my fault Bra lost _hers_ , and…”

“Trunks,” Vegeta cut in, looking at his son in exasperation when he saw tears shining in the boy’s eyes. “The only thing I’m disappointed in right now, is that you are 15 years old and you got yourself drunk with idiot friends. But even that, I can’t fully blame you for, when you are half mine, and gods know I was doing so much worse at 15. I don’t give a shit about the rest. None of that makes you a disappointment to me.”

“It’s not easy being your son, Dad,” Trunks whispered, already half asleep.

Vegeta didn’t immediately know what to say to that. He hesitated, before quietly saying, “Just sleep this off, kid. We will talk in the morning.”

“Uh huh,” Trunks breathed. A second later, and the teenager was snoring.

Vegeta stared at him for a second longer, then sighed. He removed Trunks’ other boot, then shifted the teenager so he was laying on his side, before leaving the room. Shortly after, he came back with a glass of ice water and a bucket. He left the bucket close to Trunks in case he needed it during the night, and left the glass of water on the end table by the sofa.

He scowled as he looked down at Trunks for some time, part of him feeling outrageously guilty. How long had the boy felt this way? He had no clue. But he wasn’t going to figure it out then and there, not as tired as he was.

The prince finally left and went back up to his own room, all the while wondering if he had ever had a greater challenge than being a decent father.

* * *

Vegeta’s phone went off only an hour after he was able to fall asleep. He grunted, unconsciously turning his head away from the sound, wanting a few more minutes of dozing. The ringer eventually stopped, and there was a blissful silence for a time that did not last long enough in Vegeta’s estimation. The ringer started up again, and the prince opened his eyes; his eyelids felt impossibly heavy. Turning his head, he squinted at the bright light of the sun that was pouring into his master bedroom. The prince took a glance at the baby monitor, but Bra was still asleep, and from Trunks’ ki signature, the teenager was too.

He reached for the phone, and answered it just before it went to voicemail.

“What?” he ground out, laying so he was flat on his back, his free hand going over his eyes.

“Is that any way to answer the phone?” Bulma asked with annoyance. “A _good morning_ every now and then wouldn’t kill you!”

Vegeta yawned deeply, before grumbling, “Whatever.”

“Did I wake you? You’re usually up by now,” Bulma said in surprise, reading the roughness of his voice perfectly. Vegeta scowled and took a glance at the phone again, surprised that it read 7:30am. He was even more surprised Bra hadn’t woken yet, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Long night,” he admitted.

“Yeah? Are the kids okay?”

“Tch, pain in the ass brats. We ought to sell them both to the highest bidder.”

Bulma laughed, “You’re in ultra dad mode, you got this, hon.”

“What time will you be home?”

“My flight lands around 7pm, but if the festivities after the conference bore me, I may catch an earlier flight,” she answered, before her tone turned playful. “Why, you missing your beautiful wife?”

“Tch, never,” Vegeta growled. Despite his words, he rolled onto his stomach over to Bulma’s side of the bed so he could smell her while he listened to her voice, resting his head on her pillow.

“Well, I missed you. The hotel is amazing, but I had a hard time falling asleep without you.”

“I don’t blame you, I would miss me too,” he drawled, making her laugh on the other end.

“Alright, well, I have to run, just wanted to say hi. I’ll text you when I’m at the airport later.”

“Fine.”

“Love you.”

“You damn well better.”

He then hung up, and tossed the phone aside. He slid one arm under Bulma’s pillow as he fully settled against it, exhaling deeply as he closed his eyes again. If the children weren’t awake yet, then he was going to get more sleep if possible.

Bra only allowed him twenty more minutes. Vegeta groaned a little against the pillow when he heard the girl singing loudly and obnoxiously over the baby monitor. He shifted enough so he could squint over at the baby monitor, and then scowled when he saw that she wasn’t in bed, and indeed, wasn’t on camera at all. _That_ was never good…

Less than a minute later, after splashing some cold water on his face to wake himself up, Vegeta entered Bra’s bedroom. His dark gaze immediately settled on the little girl in the room, annoyance crossing his features when he saw what she was doing. Bra had several markers open, and paused her wild scribbles on the wall long enough to smile at her father.

“Good morning Daddy!” she happily greeted him.

“What have we told you about drawing on the wall, Bra?” he angrily demanded.

Bra turned to the wall, and pointed at it as she giggled. It was only then that Vegeta realized her hands and face were covered in marker as well. Along with her bed hair, the toddler looked like a small mad artist.

“Bra art!” she proudly announced.

“ _Bra art_ needs to be in one of the hundreds of coloring books you have, not on the walls,” Vegeta growled.

“I don’t like coloring books!” Bra wailed, the L in _coloring_ sounding like some blend with the letter W.

Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest in disapproval. “Well, your mother and I don’t like _wall art,_ so we are even, kid. And look at you. Marker everywhere. Now you’re going to need a bath before breakfast.”

“No!” Bra shouted in alarm. She scrambled up to her feet, looking at Vegeta with wide blue eyes. “No bath!”

Vegeta scoffed. “Bra, you get a bath daily. I’m not sure why this is such a battle every day.”

“No, Daddy! I don’t like baths!” she adamantly cried.

 _Fuck, I need coffee,_ Vegeta mused, before sighing as he relented, “Fine, we’ll have breakfast first, but then you will take a bath so I can scrub that marker shit- er, that marker _ink_ , off you.”

“Breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“We eat cake!” she concluded, visibly brightening.

“Yes- wait, what? No, I told you we don’t have cake,” Vegeta told her with a frown.

“Daddy go store! Then Bra eat cake.”

His eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Don’t give me orders, brat. You will not have cake for breakfast, you will eat whatever I give you and you will say thank you when you are finished. Now come, let’s go downstairs.”

Bra pouted as she padded closer to him, picking up her stuffed bear along the way. She peered up at him when she stood directly in front of him.

“Daddy tall!” she announced, eyes wide. “Tall like moon!”

He snorted, fighting a smirk. “Don’t try to butter me up, kid, because it’s never going to work.”

“Daddy, pick up Bra?” the little girl asked, extending her arms up to him and offering him her biggest smile as she stretched up on her tip toes.

Vegeta hesitated, but only for a moment, before he reached down and picked her up. Bra giggled as she hugged him tightly, and he grunted, relaxing when she did. Gods only knew, she would outgrow this soon, and then he would be missing his girl at this age. So he figured it was best to enjoy it while it lasted.

As though sensing his train of thought, Bra briefly withdrew, patting him on the forehead none-too-gently and making his face crinkle up in response.

“Bra loves Daddy,” she announced happily.

Vegeta grunted in approval. “Good, because I’m the only one you’ve got, kid. Now let’s go get some breakfast. And be quiet when we go down, so you don’t disturb your brother.”

Bra smiled and raised one finger to her mouth. “Shhhh.”

“Yes,” Vegeta agreed, reminded of Trunks as a toddler as he came close to smiling. “Shh, indeed…”

It was hours later that Trunks finally roused, to the worst headache of his life. He groaned in agony as he shifted on the sofa, moving onto his back, covering his eyes with one arm to block out the light coming in from the windows. He didn’t remember getting home, but knew that he was probably in for it today with Vegeta, that was for sure. How was he supposed to know though, that those drinks were _that_ strong?

“Good, you’re finally awake,” his father’s gruff voice said from behind him. Trunks lowered his arm and shifted up, squinting over at his father who was seated in the dining room area, which gave him clear vision to the sofa in the living room. “I was going to wake you soon anyway. It’s already past 1 in the afternoon. The girl is taking a nap, and I wasn’t going to let you sleep past her this time.”

“Oh, gods,” Trunks moaned, shifting again until he slowly sat up. He rested his elbows on his knees, covering his face with both hands.

“There’s some medication next to you with some water, take it and drink all the water. You’re dehydrated.”

Trunks looked sheepishly at his father, but Vegeta was looking down at a book on the table, one hand holding a cup of coffee. Trunks shifted his attention to what his father had left him. He tossed the pills back and then chugged down the water – it was cold, and perfect, making him sigh in relief.

He lowered the glass back to the end table, looking at Vegeta again. The prince didn’t look up. Trunks scratched his head warily, before it dawned on him that if Vegeta wasn’t going to punish him, his mother surely would. There was no doubt she had heard of the situation by now. Slowly, he got up to his feet, and began making his way to the stairs to go take a shower.

“I don’t think so,” Vegeta said after Trunks had taken only one step. Trunks looked back at him, and this time, Vegeta’s gaze was directly on him. “Come over here and have a seat, so we can talk.”

Trunks released a breath, his shoulders slumping. _Here we go,_ he thought miserably, turning and slowly heading over to the dining room. He slid into a seat across from his father, swallowing heavily as he did, while willing his headache to get better fast.

Vegeta slid a large paper bag over to his son, who frowned in confusion. Trunks’ nose twitched as he pulled the bag closer, trying to peer into it. “Food?” he asked, making a rare smile spread over his father’s face.

“Yes, subs. Your mother gets these when one of us has a hangover,” the prince explained. “I had some delivered for lunch. This bag is all for you. Go on and eat while we talk.”

Trunks grunted and didn’t hesitate, pulling out three large subs and laying them in front of him. He was starving and immediately started unwrapping one as Vegeta leaned back in his seat, gazing at him with a serious look on his face.

“So, get on with it,” Vegeta ordered. “I let it slide last night because you were in no condition to talk, so tell me now, exactly what happened.”

Trunks took a huge bite of the first sub, sighing in satisfaction at the flavors bursting in his mouth. Extra meat and extra cheese, just how he liked it. He still felt terrible, but in true Saiyan fashion, satisfying hunger came first. Trunks chewed thoughtfully, keeping his eyes on his sub in his hands as he gathered his thoughts. He swallowed, then spoke, avoiding eye contact with his father.

“I _was_ hanging out at Goten’s, when I got invited out to a party with some friends from school. Goten stayed home and I went alone; I only meant to go for a little while, honest! I didn’t even know there would be alcohol. The guys were teasing me, the older guys, to try a little, and I don’t know, I didn’t want to look scared, you know? I had some and then I had some more because I didn’t feel anything. I thought I was okay, but then it got out of hand, I guess. I don’t even remember how I got back here, to be honest…”

Trunks hesitantly shifted his gaze back up to Vegeta. The prince’s expression was hard, stoic, and unreadable.

“I see,” was all Vegeta said, before lifting up his mug of coffee for another drink, his dark eyes intensely staring at his son and making Trunks drop his eyes again. The teenager took another bite of his sub.

When he swallowed, Trunks cleared his throat and asked, “So, did you go pick me up or something?”

“No. I had them send you back in a cab. I couldn’t leave your sister alone.”

Trunks nodded in understanding, before nervously venturing, “So, um, what did Mom say when you told her? I’m guessing that I’m grounded for life,” he grumbled, before taking another large bite.

Vegeta rested his elbow on the table, holding his mug of coffee right in front of him. He took a breath of it in, relishing in the smell. It soothed him, and helped keep him grounded for the conversation at hand.

“I’m not going to tell her about this.”

Trunks nearly choked on his sub, before he forced himself to swallow what he was chewing on. He looked up at his father in shock. “What? Really?” Vegeta just grunted in reply, so Trunks added a bewildered, “Why? You two tell each other everything, don’t you?”

“Well, not everything, but most things,” Vegeta admitted, scowling as he did. “There is a lot your mother still doesn’t know about me…like, for example, the fact that I was younger than you, the first time I got drunk.”

Trunks blinked in surprise. “Whoa,” he breathed. “They have beer in space?”

“Not like here, it was different planet to planet. But most of the planets we went to had some intoxicant variant. If it did, we found it, and tried it. It was a way to pass the time…honestly, most of the things we did to pass the time, are illegal here…like, you know, underage drinking,” he said pointedly, making Trunks look down in shame.

“Oh.”

“I guess what I’m saying is, you have part of me in you. So I understand…the need to show off, the fear of looking weak, the pride that can drive a man. Still, things are different for you. You have it good on this planet, so you can’t make these stupid decisions, Trunks. You have the chance to be better and smarter.”

“Hmm.” Trunks frowned as he chewed on his sub, and on his father’s words.

“Last night while you were intoxicated, you seemed to think that I view you as a disappointment. Is that true, or was it just the alcohol?”

“Oh gods, I said that?” Trunks cringed, blushing a deep crimson.

“You did.”

“Well that’s embarrassing,” Trunks mumbled as he reached for a new sub.

“So you don’t feel that way?” Vegeta challenged. “You don’t feel like, and I am quoting you, that it’s hard to be my son?”

Trunks scowled as he unwrapped his second sub, and then took a bite. He had taken several more, before he finally answered.

“Sometimes, I guess,” Trunks admitted.

“Why?” Vegeta pressed.

“I don’t know…” Trunks grumbled, his blush deepening. All the while, he avoided eye contact with his father. “I guess sometimes it’s like…I’m not good enough, no matter what I do. Like you…you were never satisfied with how strong I ever got, so I just…stopped training, so I didn’t have to deal with it at all. Though, it’s not just you, to be fair. I guess I feel like that with Mom too, sometimes. With her, it’s my schoolwork that’s never good enough, because she’s a genius, you know? So she doesn’t get why it’s hard for me to get an A in every single class, because it was so easy for her. I don’t know, I guess it’s hard sometimes, being her son too.”

“Expectation is difficult. I understand that too,” Vegeta relented with a nod. “Your mother and I are similar in that we have extremely high standards…speaking for myself, I only wanted you to be strong, and to grow into the type of man I could never be. And I think you are getting there…you’re a good kid, and more of a man at 15 than I was at 30. You are far from a disappointment to me, Trunks.”

Trunks smiled. “Thanks, Dad. You know, I kinda like talking to you…like this. Can we do this more? Maybe, hang out more too? We don’t do it as much as before.”

Vegeta snorted. “Well, that is because you are always going to Kakarot’s house instead.”

“Fair enough.”

“Also, I should let you know that you will still be grounded for this. Just because I can relate, does not mean I can let it slide,” Vegeta sternly informed him. “And, this is a one time freebie. Next time, I won’t be as kind, so I suggest you learn and do better.”

“I guess that’s fair. So what’s the damage?”

“Grounded for a month, no cell phone, no seeing Goten. And this afternoon, you will join your misfit friends in going back to the woods and cleaning up that whole mess you all left behind.”

Trunks sighed heavily, before standing up. “Well, I should take a shower then. But hey, my head feels better, so that’s a plus.” He hesitated for a moment, before genuinely adding, “Thanks, Dad.”

Vegeta grunted as his son left the room. He reached over and snatched a sub from the bag for himself, then sat back down as he unwrapped it. He could feel Trunks going upstairs, and could sense that his daughter was still sleeping.

 _Finally, some peace and quiet,_ he thought to himself, quickly devouring the sub in front of him.

He was contemplating getting some training in before Bra woke from her nap, when he glanced over to the front door in surprise. A moment later, his wife walked in. Vegeta looked back to the clock on the wall; it was hours before he expected her home, though he was not complaining.

“Hello! I’m home!” Bulma called out.

“I’m in here, and I have food,” Vegeta responded loud enough for her to hear.

“Good! I’m starving,” she called back.

Several minutes later, Bulma finally came into the dining room where he was. She came over and kissed him on the cheek in greeting, before taking a seat herself, next to him instead of across from him.

“You’re home early,” he observed, handing her a sub.

“Yeah, the weather turned on a dime, it started coming down out there! Everyone was getting nervous about their flights back home getting canceled, so we only made it halfway through the morning sessions, before we all bailed. It’s fine though – I got to present on my space fleet, so it wasn’t a total waste. Then I got the first flight out, so I wouldn’t get stranded. They’re going to reschedule it, and this time, I’ll be hosting it, so I won’t have to travel.”

“Hn.”

“So how are the kids? Did they drive you to drink? Is that why we have the hangover subs today?” Bulma laughed.

“The girl is sleeping, and Trunks is taking a shower. I still think we should sell them both. They’re a goddamn handful.” He paused, before warily adding, “That girl especially is going to be trouble when she is older.”

“She’s a spitfire, like her daddy,” she teased, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, Vegeta turned and leaned into it, seizing her lips with his. Bulma leaned in closer as they shared a kiss, while he sighed contentedly into it. He eagerly deepened it, his tongue exploring her mouth with an urgency like she had been gone for a decade instead of a day.

“Mmm, I missed this,” Bulma whispered against his lips after she breathlessly pulled away.

“I do need to unwind, I think,” he whispered with a suggestive smirk.

“Well, when a baby naps is always the best time to unwind.” Bulma giggled as she grabbed him by the hand, and then promptly pulled him out of his seat and out of the dining room altogether.

“I thought you were hungry?” Vegeta asked, though he was not putting up a fight.

“I am, and not just for a sub.”

His smirk grew as they both went into their bedroom a moment later, closing the door behind them.


	18. Emergencies

Over the years he had lived at Capsule Corp, morning times had always been a peaceful time for Vegeta. Bulma and Trunks were both night owls, and while Vegeta was also naturally inclined to stay up late, he had rarely been prone to sleeping in. Such a concept simply did not exist where he came from. Even when he first started living on Earth, he was almost always awake early to train, often right when the sun was rising, if not earlier. As time passed and his relationship with Bulma grew more serious, he had quite easily accepted sex being added to the morning routine, as it was a _very_ nice way to start his day.

Aside from those times when one of them woke up in the mood, however, the mornings had still been his own. He could train, he could read, he could meditate, he could soak in a bath, he could go fetch Goku for a spar, he could even just stay in bed with his wife and enjoy the peace and quiet. He could do anything he wished in that time, up until the sun rose high and his duties as husband and father beckoned.

All of that had started to change though when Bra was born. The baby had demanded much of his and Bulma's time as an infant, and that had eaten into his personal morning time quite often – not that he minded. He figured eventually she would outgrow it, and at 3 years old now, Bra finally had. However, it was becoming more and more apparent that Bra was taking after her father in being a natural early bird. He wondered sometimes if Bra was in sync with him; it seemed that most days, she naturally woke just after he did. He and Bulma had thus settled on a new routine, where he took care of Bra in the mornings, and Bulma took care of Bra in the afternoons after she was off work.

And so Vegeta's mornings were not his own anymore, and were now shared with his daughter. Owned by her, even. Although he was a creature of habit and liked his solitude, he did not mind this particular change. It just never got old going into Bra's bedroom and finding her happily waiting for him in the mornings.

That day was no exception. It was just past 6 in the morning, and Vegeta was in the pool in the fitness facilities of Capsule Corp. Morning time was dedicated to teaching Bra to swim these days, but the girl was still not comfortable in the water, a fact that Vegeta was trying to change.

"Alright," Vegeta said with authority as he adjusted the pool settings to make the water warm. He tread a little in the water as he moved closer to his daughter, who was sitting on the edge of the pool. He waved her in. "Come on, jump on in here, kid."

"No," Bra whined. She was in a one piece swimsuit with a ruffle skirt, all white with little red strawberries over it. She even had a matching hat that she always insisted on wearing with this swimsuit, proving she was Bulma's daughter through and through. Her teddy bear dutifully sat next to her at the edge of the pool.

Vegeta roughly brushed some of the wet hair out of his eyes, paddling over so he was directly in front of her. "This is the third time we have come here this week, Bra. You never want to get in, but once you do, you always like it."

"But Daddy, it's cold!" Bra wailed, biting her bottom lip.

"Bra, your feet are in the water, you can feel it's not cold." Vegeta backed up a little and extended his arms to her. "Come on now, jump in."

"I don't want to! I want cake," she whined.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. He could have _strangled_ Goten, who he discovered had apparently given Bra some leftover cake one day long ago while he was hanging out with Trunks. Now the kid was always demanding it, and once in a while her parents (more so her father than her mother) caved in and indulged her with some. The prince frowned at his daughter in disapproval.

"No cake until you learn to swim," Vegeta informed her sternly. Bra's lip quivered, tears shining in her eyes. Vegeta took a deep breath, internally cursing that he was at the whims of a child when he offered, "But when you _do_ learn, I'll get you a big cake, just for you." Bra perked up at the offer, sniffling as Vegeta extended his arms again. "Come then. Don't be afraid. I'll catch you, princess."

Bra pursed her lips, but slowly lifted her feet out of the water before she stood. She visibly hesitated, until Vegeta gave her an encouraging nod. Trusting him, the little girl took a deep breath, then jumped with a shriek into the water, splashing right into his arms. She clutched him tightly as she shrieked again while Vegeta came close to laughing, running one hand down his face.

"Daddy!" she cried. "It's COLD!"

"It's not, don't be absurd," Vegeta snorted, rolling his eyes. "Dramatic, just like your mother. The water is warmer than room temperature, you'll live. Now, let's practice, just like I showed you yesterday…"

Almost an hour later, back in the compound, Bulma's alarm was going off for the third time. She reached out to snooze it again, then buried herself deeper under her comforter.

After just a few seconds though, she realized that she had already snoozed her alarm. Bulma immediately threw the comforter off, double checked the time, then cursed when she realized she was already running late.

"Shit, shit, shit," Bulma hissed in a panic as she quickly got out of bed, disappearing in their massive walk-in closet. She knew that Vegeta had Bra, but it was up to her to wake their teenage son, which was its own massive effort. The timing was terrible to miss her alarm, as she had a huge acquisition negotiation that she was leading that morning.

"Damn it," she muttered, emerging from the master bedroom less than a minute later. She was wearing a snug yet professional dark blue dress, and was fastening on an earring as she quickly strode over to Trunks' room. She was barefoot and still disheveled, but she had to get the battle started in waking her son, or they were both going to be late.

Unbeknownst to her, though, Trunks was already awake. The 16-year-old had never actually gone to sleep, staying up all night under his covers while texting a girl from school. He had only stopped when he sensed Vegeta waking up, and had feigned sleep, just in case his father decided to appear and scold him for being awake.

But Vegeta had never appeared, and when Bra woke moments later, Trunks stayed completely still. It was only when he finally felt Vegeta take Bra out towards the fitness center, that he tried resuming his texting. Unfortunately, the new girl that had just transferred to his high school was no longer responding to his texts. He figured she must have fallen asleep, and so he went for the next best thing…a magazine he had secretly swiped from Roshi the last time they had all gotten together at Krillin's.

Trunks settled comfortably back in bed, flipping the pages of the magazine. He swallowed at the very adult images that greeted him, and finally settled on a page that was quite nice.

Bulma was none the wiser when she threw open the door to Trunks' room to wake him a few minutes later. Instead, she was greeted with the sight of her son in bed, covered in his blankets while he used one hand to hold up the magazine, with his other hand was under the blankets and–

Two pairs of blue eyes widened in shock.

"TRUNKS!" "OH MY GOD MOM!" Bulma and Trunks both simultaneously shrieked.

Bulma immediately closed the door, as Trunks fell out of his bed while rolling away from her gaze. Bulma had one hand over her heart in shock; thank the gods, she had not actually seen anything, but it was obvious what the boy had been doing. She liked to think of herself as a sexually liberated woman, but this was her SON, and all she could process was how mortified she was.

"YOU NEED TO KNOCK FIRST!" Trunks shouted from inside the room, sounding equally mortified.

"Um," Bulma stammered, trying to think, but her brilliant mind was drawing a blank. Should she chastise him? But masturbation was a normal thing for boys his age, wasn't it? Should she tell him that? No, she quickly reasoned; he would be even more embarrassed. Finally, she settled on, "You're right, I'm sorry! In any case, I'm glad you're awake, because breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes!"

With that, she made a quick escape – this was one she was going to punt to Vegeta, that was for damn sure.

Vegeta was carrying Bra with one arm as he walked through the backdoor of the compound, clad in only his black swimming trunks. He had wrapped his daughter snugly in a towel covered in strawberries that also went over her head like a hood so she wouldn't get too cold. Bra was singing rather loudly, the same annoying song that she had been for months now. Vegeta had gotten better at ignoring it, but he paused after only a few steps – he may have been able to tune out his daughter's rather horrid singing, but he couldn't ignore his wife who was now standing before him.

"Hi Mommy!" Bra happily chirped.

"Hi baby," Bulma greeted, going over to give her daughter a kiss. She nuzzled her a little, making Bra giggle. "Did you have a good swimming lesson with Daddy?"

"Yeah!"

"Good! Do you mind if I talk to Daddy alone?" Bulma asked, making her husband raise an eyebrow. He lowered Bra to the floor, gently nudging her.

"Go on to your room and wait there," Vegeta ordered. "One of us will be up soon to clean you up and get you dressed."

"Ohhhh-kayyyy," Bra answered in a sing-song tone, before running off while still wrapped up in her towel as she giggled, dragging her stuffed bear with her.

When he sensed that she was indeed heading back up the stairs towards her own bedroom, Vegeta turned back to his wife, his hands loosely on his hips as he scowled.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"We have an emergency," Bulma told him urgently. "It's Trunks!"

Vegeta looked to the side, frowning as he instinctively did a ki scan. He easily placed his teenage son in his bedroom – his ki signature was strong and healthy. A look of confusion came over his face as he turned his gaze back to his wife.

"What about him? He feels fine to me."

"I mean – he is – but –" Bulma sighed. "This morning, I caught him…you know," she gestured wildly, making the confusion grow on her husband's face.

"No, I _don't_ know, woman. What the hell are you talking about?" Vegeta asked in bewilderment.

"He was in bed, reading something, and he was….you know, jerking himself off," Bulma told him with another sigh, her face reddening. "And I walked in and…oh, thank god I didn't see anything, but it was obvious what he was doing under the blankets, Vegeta!"

Vegeta blinked. He stared at her for a moment, digesting her words, and then snorted in laughter. His laughter grew until he was leaning his head back, laughing loudly like this was the best thing he had heard all year.

"It's not funny, you jerk!" Bulma cried. "He's my son, you think I want to walk in on that? I don't!"

Vegeta just laughed harder. He wiped at his eyes, tearing up from the laughter as he walked past her, intent on going to check on his daughter. Bulma was on his heels the whole way though as he headed towards the stairs.

"Vegeta!"

After he had composed himself enough to speak, Vegeta asked in amusement, "What do you want me to do about it, woman? He is a 16-year-old boy, it's normal."

"Well, I think you should talk to him again."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "About what? Proper techniques?" he snorted.

Bulma caught his arm, making him stop and turn back to her. The prince sighed, but he did not fight her when she took hold of his hands.

"No, you jerk. I mean just tell him that it's normal and healthy and that if he has questions, he can ask you about anything as it pertains to sex."

Vegeta scowled at her. "Why don't _you_ tell him that?"

"Have you met our son? Do you think he wants to hear that from his mom?" Bulma asked him knowingly.

He never got the chance to respond before Trunks raced downstairs while putting his jacket on, headphones hanging on the back of his neck, his backpack slung on one shoulder.

"Running late, gotta go, no time for breakfast!" Trunks informed his parents loudly. "Oh and you guys better go get Bra, she's drawing on the wall again!"

The front door closed behind the teenager before his parents could respond. Bulma glanced at her watch and cursed.

"Shit, I'm running late, I gotta run, I have a meeting this morning," she said in one rushed breath. Leaning in, she gave Vegeta a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll pick up Bra from preschool later, and you talk to Trunks after school, okay? Love you! I'll see you later!"

Vegeta blinked, and then she was gone. His brow furrowed as he reached up to run a hand through his hair, before he shook his head in defeat, turning towards the stairs. He would have to think about what to say to his son later when the boy returned from school, but in the meantime, he had another child that needed tending.

Half an hour later, Bra was sitting at the kitchen table, freshly bathed and dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt with sky blue overalls that were covered with pink flowers. She was officially a "big girl", which meant she refused to use the high chair anymore. Still, she needed a seat booster to get her high enough to eat from the table. Vegeta had given her a bowl of cereal, and she was eating it happily while she kicked her legs.

Her father was across from her, sipping on a fresh cup of coffee while he perused the news on his tablet. Bra started school slightly later than Trunks; while Bulma could sometimes swing it to drop her off, the task usually fell to him. It was another thing he did not mind, for it gave him the chance to make sure the preschool was in pristine condition and observe the other children to make sure none of the other 3-year-olds behaved like hooligans. Only the best for his daughter, after all.

Bra raised her spoon up, obnoxiously slurping her cereal and making Vegeta glance at her in annoyance. She lowered the spoon and giggled.

"Cut that out, girl," he ordered, frowning at her. Bra pursed her lips, but resumed eating her cereal quietly as she cradled her head in her free hand.

"Daddy?"

"Hn?"

"I want a birdie."

"What?" Vegeta asked in confusion. "Like to eat?"

"No, Daddy!" Bra yelled, horrified. "You don't eat birdies!"

"I do," he said with a smirk.

"Daddy!" Bra wailed.

Vegeta scowled and opened a new tab on his tablet, searching for "are birds pets on Earth". He scoffed at the results, shaking his head. Only humans would take food for pets. His eyes caught one bird that apparently repeated words it heard. That would _definitely_ not work in their home, lest he kill it before the week was over.

"Ask your mother later," he grumbled, picking up his coffee again as he flipped back to the news. Bra pouted at that, but resumed eating her cereal, kicking her feet as she did.

"All donesies!" Bra finally announced. She proudly showed him her bowl, which had no more cereal, but still quite a bit of milk. In doing so, she inadvertently spilled some of the milk on the table, making him sigh as he put the tablet away.

"Fine. Leave the bowl, go get your shoes, and then it's time for school," Vegeta said, snatching some napkins as he cleaned the mess she made. Bra slid down to the floor and ran off, while he eyed the clock. They were running ahead of time, and he was feeling rather generous that day. He was actually going to offer swinging by the bakery near the preschool first to get them each a slice of cake (after all, he would not be the one having to deal with a hyper 3-year-old afterwards), when Bra ran back into the kitchen, carrying brand new white gym shoes.

"Daddy, Daddy!" she yelled, making him look over.

"What?" Vegeta gruffly demanded, watching as she sat down and put her shoes on. She could halfway tie them, but had not mastered it yet. He watched her efforts briefly, then turned back to the table as he gave it one final wipe.

"What's boyfriend mean?" Bra innocently asked.

Vegeta immediately turned his attention to the little girl trying to tie her shoes. His expression darkened. "Nothing that concerns you. Where did you hear that word?"

"I dunnoooo," she drawled, before giggling. "Daddy, help Bra," she ordered, kicking her feet to draw his attention.

Vegeta exhaled through his nose, before going over to squat down in front of the little girl sitting on the floor. He methodically started tying her shoelaces for her as he tried again, "You must have heard that word _somewhere_ , as I know it's not in your books that your mother reads to you at night. Where did you hear it?"

"I don't like books! I like birdies."

Vegeta rolled his eyes, and dropped it for the time being. He made a note to have a conversation with his wife later and get answers then. He finished tying up Bra's shoelaces perfectly, then stood up.

"Alright, let's go," he ordered.

Bra scrambled up to her feet, then climbed Vegeta like he was a tree until she was sitting on his shoulders. She gripped his hair for balance as her father strode out of the compound, checking his cell phone for the time. Just enough time for a trip to the bakery to give the kid a surprise, he realized with a grin, as his ki flared around him. A flash of light later, and they were both gone.

* * *

Bulma was getting flustered and trying not to show it later that day. She glared at the executive of an upstart rival technology company; the executive though was unreadable. And unreasonable. She had made a fair offer for an acquisition deal that would absorb the other company under Capsule Corp, but it was being turned down in the hopes of milking a sweeter deal. Her father had taught her a thing or two though about the business world, and she was not backing down, which had led to a gridlock negotiation meeting that was going on hours now.

At one end of the long table, she reclined back in her leather seat while she watched one of the rival's engineers present to her on new technology pertaining to space travel. She scrutinized what he was saying as he pointed to several graphs on a flip chart, and then finally raised a hand to pause the presentation.

"It's an innovative design, I admit that," Bulma relented, folding her hands together in her lap as she reclined in her seat. All the engineers turned back to look at her expectantly. The rival executive, a man named Tom Li, sat on the opposite end of the long table, and he was the only one she locked eyes with, for he was the decision maker much like she was. "You have gone further into propulsion technology than we have, but that's only _one_ component of a spacecraft. Aside from this design, the rest of your technology is nothing new that my team hasn't done before-"

"Bulma," Tom interrupted, making her eyes narrow in annoyance. "I can call you Bulma, right? It's not just that-"

"First of all, it's Mrs. Briefs. Second of all, I wasn't done speaking, Mr. Li," she evenly cut in, making Tom's engineers glance nervously at each other. Tom took a deep breath, his eyebrows drawing slightly together showing just a hint of annoyance as he folded his hands on the table. He may have been at the opposite end of the long table, but his seat was the same as all the other engineers – only hers was luxury leather, a silent visual that she was in charge.

Before Bulma could emphasize yet again that her offer was more than generous, a light flashed on the intercom in front of her.

"Excuse me one moment," Bulma said, before pressing on the button. "Yes, Vivianne? I am still not done with the folks from Next Gen Space Tech."

"Apologies, Mrs. Briefs, but there is an emergency that requires your attention in your office."

Bulma frowned. Only Vegeta could pressure her secretary enough to interrupt an acquisition negotiation, but the use of the word "emergency" made her worry. Did something happen with the kids? No – he would have obnoxiously walked right into the meeting, just like he used to do when she was pregnant with Bra. She did not show any concern as she replied, "Fine, I'll be there."

She let go of the intercom and stood up, prompting everyone around the table to stand as well.

"Let's take a break, and resume these negotiations after 20 minutes…"

Moments later, Bulma was striding down the hallways of Capsule Corp headquarters, going over to her elite personal corner office with the killer view of West City. She paused briefly in front of her secretary who sat directly outside of her office.

"He's inside, he was insistent, said it was an emergency," her secretary said nervously.

"Thank you Vivianne. I'll have no interruptions now. Seat the team from NGST back in the conference room at 1pm sharp," Bulma instructed, before going ahead and entering the office, closing the door behind her.

Vegeta spun around when she entered. He was sitting in her chair at her desk, and upon facing her, he flashed her a smirk and propped up his feet on her desk, earning a glare from his wife.

"I like this chair, woman. I may have to steal it."

Bulma put her hands on her hips while she glared daggers at her husband who was crossing his feet on her desk. "So what's the big emergency that pulled me out of a big meeting?"

"Ah," Vegeta said with a nod. He lowered his feet and stood up, walking around her desk as Bulma crossed her arms in annoyance. When he came to stand in front of her, Vegeta turned around and gave her his back. "There is an itch that is difficult for me to reach, thought maybe you could assist."

Bulma felt her blood pressure rise as she yelled, "You came in here because you wanted your _back_ scratched?! That's your emergency?"

Vegeta shrugged with all the maddening entitlement of a prince. She could hear the smirk in his voice as he asked, "What of it? You're my mate, it's your duty. I haven't been able to reach it to scratch it properly, which is an emergency in my books."

"Clearly you are getting a backscratcher next Christmas," Bulma informed him, still sounding annoyed. Despite her tone, he felt her warm hands slip under his black polo shirt. "Well, where is it then?" she demanded.

"Higher," Vegeta ordered, feeling her perfectly manicured nails run up his back under his shirt. "Wait – there, right there," he growled in pleasure, his eyes closing as he leaned his head back a little while she scratched him right where he needed. Bulma rolled her eyes.

"So how was Bra this morning?"

"Good," he grunted, before scowling. "Though she did ask me what a _boyfriend_ is. Where do you think she heard that word?"

"Ah, there is a little boy in her preschool class who has a crush on her, he apparently asked her to be her boyfriend a couple days ago," Bulma explained with a laugh.

Vegeta immediately spun around as he ferociously snarled, "WHAT? What's his name? Where does he live? Is it the kid with the moppy hair? I knew that little shit was up to no good, I could tell just by looking at him. We are changing her school at once-"

"Vegeta, he is a three-year-old boy," Bulma laughed, putting her arms around his neck. Some of the tension left him as she hugged him, but the fierce glare on his face did not ease up. "Kids that age are too innocent for you to worry."

"We need to send her elsewhere, or she will be corrupted," he growled, even as he pulled his wife closer to him. She was in her power outfit, complete with heels that made a statement. The look was a major turn on, especially having her so close to him now.

"That's the top preschool, and Bra is doing great there," she laughed again. "You need to relax."

"Hn, I'll tell you one thing that will help me relax…" Vegeta muttered, leaning in close to her neck to breathe in her scent. He kissed her under the jaw, moving one hand up to her face, his other hand on her lower back.

Bulma glanced at the clock and groaned. "Vegeta, I got fifteen minutes before I have to go back to negotiating with these guys…" she shuddered when his kisses moved down below her throat, trailing the exposed skin along her dress. There was just a hint of cleavage, and he eagerly lowered his head for a taste.

"More than enough time," Vegeta breathed against her skin, one of his hands running up her thigh and brushing up her dress. "It'll help you unwind for the negotiations. Or, alternatively, I can just kill them for you," he teased.

Bulma laughed, a husky sound that made him straighten. Gods, but he never got tired of the thrill he got from making her laugh. He never gave her the chance to respond before he stole her breath with a heated kiss, his hands moving to the sides of her face, his touch filled with urgency. Bulma pulled him closer, gripping his shirt tightly as Vegeta backed her up until they were against the wall while he continued ravaging her mouth like it was the first time he was tasting her kiss instead of somewhere in the thousands.

Not for the first time, Bulma mentally applauded her decision to sound-proof her office so no one could eavesdrop on important conversations; it certainly benefited her for these occasions with her husband. Something about doing this at work had always been a huge turn on for her, something Vegeta had well taken advantage of over the years once he realized it – though she certainly wasn't complaining.

"Well then," she breathed against his lips when he finally pulled back. "Don't keep me waiting."

Bulma moved her hand so it was sliding just under his jeans from behind, finding his tail stub. Vegeta grunted and leaned his head back, his eyes closing as his mouth fell open when she applied just the right amount of pressure while massaging him. She leaned in to his throat, alternating between kissing and sucking his heated skin while she kept the pressure on. A low growl started from deep in his chest, and she let out a shaky breath when he pushed his erection against her.

When she introduced some teeth along his throat, he growled again, stronger this time. That ended it; he pulled her away from the wall with one strong arm, easily lifting her up against him. A moment later and Vegeta was clearing her desk with one swipe of his arm, sparing her computer – he knew from experience she'd be pissed at him afterwards if he damaged the stupid thing. He laid his wife on the desk gently like she was something to be treasured, and it would have moved her if he didn't immediately grab her hips and haul her to the edge.

Her eyes were dark with desire as she watched him unbuckle his belt with one hand, neither breaking their intense eye contact. Vegetea used his other hand to slide up between her legs, brushing her dress up. She shuddered, then suddenly realized that though her office was sound-proofed, she hadn't locked the door.

"Vegeta," she started, her breath hitching when his fingers reached their destination. He teased her, flaring his ki and making her whimper. "You…the door…"

He chuckled, his voice rougher than usual as he breathed, "I already locked it."

"What?" she asked, panting as he expertly worked her with his fingers just how she liked, making her jerk and moan. He stroked himself with his free hand in anticipation. "But I didn't…see you lock it…"

"I'm faster than anything you can imagine," he smugly informed her. "But maybe for this, I won't be."

"Vegeta," she whined when he removed his wonderful fingers, both in protest of his words and the loss of touch.

"It's a power move to be late, woman," he half-groaned, breathing harder as his hands went to her hips again. "Show them who they're dealing with."

Vegeta robbed her of all thought then, pulling her hips off the desk and towards him just as he slowly pressed into her. He leaned his head back in bliss as he buried himself in his wife completely, while Bulma's breath got caught in her throat. Her hands desperately tried to grab onto something on her desk while he forced her legs around his waist, and when she moaned his name in need, he obliged and started a good, steady rhythm. His thrusts were slow enough to milk every minute of the time she had given him and then some, but still fast and hard enough to have her writhing underneath him. His dark eyes were drinking in the sight of her, in her power business outfit, breaking a sweat while she took every inch of him – he moaned in appreciation. He was the only one who could see her like this, make her feel and sound like this, and not for the first time, he marveled over his luck.

"Vegeta…the time…" Bulma whimpered as he reached up to her, snaking one hand into her dress and under her bra. She felt her love grow for him when she realized he was purposely trying to avoid ruining her clothes, a consideration that had taken years to drill into him. Vegeta grunted and started picking up the pace, as though finally accepting that she did not want to be late. When he felt those heels of hers around his tail stub, his thrusts came in desperately harder, as hard as she could take him.

She didn't last long at that pace. Vegeta surely hoped the office was indeed sound-proofed as he hauled her up against his chest, capturing her lips in a dominant kiss, both of them crying out in ecstasy as they crossed the brink together.

A couple of minutes later, Vegeta was buckling up his belt again while Bulma brushed her hair with a small mirror she kept in her desk so she wouldn't look entirely disheveled. Vegeta eyed her for a moment, then went over to her. He smoothed out parts of her dress as she turned towards him.

"Right on time," she said, smiling at him. "I do feel a little better now about these negotiations. Your brand of stress relief always hits the spot."

"I still think you should be late and make them sweat," he mumbled, one hand going to her short hair. He twirled a strand absent mindedly around one finger. Bulma caught his hand and kissed his palm.

"Everyone wants to acquire these guys, I can't risk them leaving and taking their tech somewhere else," Bulma sighed. Still, she did not feel as stressed about it as she had been. She gave Vegeta another smile, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "I have to run to the bathroom to freshen up, then get back to work. I'll see you later, oh, and don't forget to talk to Trunks. Love you!"

She kissed him again, and he grunted as he watched her quickly take her leave. Vegeta went over to her desk once he was alone again and sank into the chair, sighing in content while he slowly spun around in it. He had almost forgotten about that incident with his son, which was probably a good thing – thinking about that was a mood killer if he'd ever heard of one. He scowled, reclining back and kicking his feet up on Bulma's desk again as he wondered just what to say to Trunks.

The time passed quicker than he thought. One moment he was still in Bulma's office lost in thought, and then the next, Trunks was coming home from school. The teenager made his dutiful stop in the kitchen for food, then took off upstairs straight to his bedroom, munching on a snack in one hand while he texted in the other.

Trunks was blissfully unaware that his father was tracking him from the gravity room the whole time. The prince didn't interrupt his training though, wondering if he should even bother. He didn't even know what to really say to Trunks about it. Still, he figured his wife would be none too pleased if he backed out of it now, and he didn't want their office romp to be the last time he got laid.

An hour later, Trunks was dressed in only his boxers, his shades, and his socks. He had finished all his homework in record time, and now he was goofing off in front of his mirror. He struck a few dance moves as he listened to music loudly off his laptop. Trunks played an air guitar while he rocked out to his music, so lost in the moment that he was totally unaware of his father walking into his bedroom.

Vegeta scowled at the teenager, and then loudly cleared his throat to announce his presence. Trunks yelped and spun around, grinning at his father even though he turned an impossible shade of red. He sheepishly removed his shades, putting them aside.

"Uh, Dad, sorry, I didn't hear you come in," Trunks nervously said, turning to his laptop to silence the music. As if one mortifying parent moment wasn't enough for one day…

Vegeta took a deep breath, reminded himself that his son was half human and that any undesirable traits the boy had were due to the planet he was raised on, and then crossed his arms over his chest.

"Your mother told me about this morning," Vegeta bluntly informed his son.

"Oh," Trunks said, taking a seat at the edge of his bed, his blush spreading until it seemed even his ears were red. "I can return the magazine if you want."

"What magazine?" Vegeta demanded. Trunks leaned over so he could reach under his bed, and pulled it out. He extended it to his father, who stepped forward to take it. Vegeta flipped through the magazine, raising an eyebrow. Earth definitely had its varieties, that was for sure.

"It's Roshi's."

"Where did you get it?"

"When we all got together for Krillin's birthday."

"Hn." Vegeta rolled up the magazine, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. He and Trunks stared at each other for an uncomfortable stretch of time, until the teenager looked down first. Vegeta uncomfortably cleared his throat again, before finally venturing, "You aren't having sex, are you?"

"What? No!" Trunks yelled, blushing again. Vegeta studied him intensely, but his son had never succeeded in lying to him, and so he nodded his acceptance.

"Good." He tossed Trunks a box of condoms. His son caught the box, and then looked mortified at what it was. "Take this anyway, just in case. And next time, keep your door locked so you don't traumatize your mother. It's normal, these urges, but learn to be discreet, at least while you live here."

Trunks scowled, staring down at the box of condoms for a while, before he looked back up at his father. "Mom doesn't like locked doors though."

"I _assure_ you that she will make an exception after today. You don't want to hear us, well, neither of us want to see you, understand?"

Trunks nodded. "Alright…" Vegeta nodded to him, and was turning to leave, when Trunks called out, "Hey, Dad?"

The prince paused and looked back at him, frowning. "What now?"

"I was thinking of a game since I'm done with my homework. Want to play?" Trunks asked, gesturing to his video games.

Vegeta scowled and visibly hesitated; he had actually been planning on going to fetch Goku for a good spar before dinnertime. He looked his son over, and then finally gave a nod, making Trunks grin. After all, the kid would be out of the house in the next few years, then who knew how often he would get to see his son. The prince went and took a seat on the edge of Trunks' bed while his son fired up the gaming system and handed him a controller. Trunks fell in beside his father, rolling onto his stomach on the bed while he eagerly picked up his own controller. Vegeta leaned forward, his scowl deepening when he saw that his son had chosen a racing game.

Father and son wound up playing together for hours, cursing, yelling, up until the moment Bulma yelled for them that dinner was ready. No sooner had she done so, than Bra burst into Trunks' bedroom. The little girl ran in and scrambled up on the bed with her father and brother, wanting to join in the game, making Vegeta laugh when she climbed all over Trunks to steal his controller. Bulma finally appeared at the door to corral them, but wound up just reclining against the door frame with a smile as she watched the three horse around.

In the end, Vegeta was glad he hadn't gone for a spar after all, because no fight in the world was worth missing a second of this.


End file.
